


So Your Best Friend Is A Demon

by dementor_ssc



Series: So You Want To Be A Demonologist [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Demon Summoning, Demonic Possession, Dipnip/Yggdrasil, Gen, Original Character(s), Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-07-14 10:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7167431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementor_ssc/pseuds/dementor_ssc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They said you can make lifelong friends at college, and they were right. Thomas had never imagined one of those friends to be an actual demon, but hey, at least life was never boring with Tyrone around.</p><p>Little drabbles and one-shots that tie into the 'So You Want To Be A Demonologist' fic. You might want to read that one first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drives Like a Demon

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Based on this ask from astridianmayfly about the Rainbow Basher  
> (http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/144933141243/the-rainbow-basher)  
> You know that recent headcanon about the Rainbow Basher on the main blog? It said that one of the world's best demonologists finds out it can be summoned- I was just thinking for a short drabble/one-shot with Dipper and Thomas....
> 
> The Rainbow Basher is from Phenyx's Nest (http://archiveofourown.org/works/2709113/chapters/15886465), and some bits of Feneris' The Car (http://archiveofourown.org/works/6457522) are alluded to, more or less.

"What are you doing?"

Thomas jumped. He'd been so focused on scrolling through the web pages he hadn't noticed Tyrone popping up behind him.

Well, Alcor, actually, but Thomas had gotten so used to thinking of his friend as 'Tyrone' that it was hard to break the habit. Probably for the best, this way he would be less likely to slip up and call him Alcor in public.

"Just browsing," Thomas said.

Tyrone leaned over his shoulder. "You're looking for a car."

Thomas looked at his screen. Six tabs active, all websites of nearby used car dealerships. "It's frightening how you just _know_ these things," he said.

"I _am_ omniscient, you know." Tyrone nodded to the picture at the top of the screen. "That one looks nice."

"I know. It's also way, way over budget." Thomas leaned back in his chair and groaned. "They _all_ are."

All except the tiny rust-coloured one. He could afford that one. But if it was anything like its pictures, he would be lucky if the wheels didn't fall off after a mild rainstorm.

Add the taxes and all that bureaucratic junk to the price tag, and he'd be living off ramen noodles for the foreseeable future.

It's not like he really _needed_ a car. He lived three blocks away from his job. But it would be nice, you know? Even if only to visit people without having to rely on public transportation all the time.

Tyrone snapped his fingers. A framed piece of paper appeared in his hand. "You're forgetting the easiest solution."

Thomas glanced at the degree Tyrone was waving around. "Please put that back on the wall," he said. "And if you're suggesting a deal -"

"Of course I'm suggesting a deal!" With another snap the frame with Thomas' diploma was back where it belonged, above the couch. "That's sort of my _thing_."

"Weren't you the one who gave this whole speech about shortcuts and demon deals and how we should only risk it when absolutely necessary?"

"Pssh, I say a lot of things. Besides, how many deals have we made since then?"

"For little stuff," Thomas said. "Things easily paid for with candy. I'm guessing a car is going to be expensive either way, whether I pay for it with money or with something else."

"Yeah, sure, if you want a car like that," Tyrone said, gesturing to the sleek black car with the leather seats Thomas had been admiring. "But if you're not too picky? I can arrange something."

One of the cardinal rules of demonology: if things seem too good to be true, they are. That was a rule Thomas had to keep in mind a lot, even with Tyrone. He loved to trick them into making little mistakes, with repercussions that were usually innocent but _extremely annoying_.

"You're not suggesting some kind of toy car, right?" Thomas said. "You're talking about an actual car, with brakes and wheels and an engine and _everything_ it needs to drive around? One I can sit in comfortably?"

"Yep."

"And what would it cost me?"

Tyrone clapped his hands in glee. "Nothing!"

Now he _knew_ there had to be a catch.

"You're giving me a car," Thomas clarified. "A real car. For free?"

"Well, no," Tyrone said. "You'll have to get it yourself. And I must warn you, it might not be entirely your style of car. But it does all the things a car is supposed to do."

"If it's free and I don't get wet when it rains, I don't care what style it is. It can be hot pink with advertising on the sides for all I care."

"Very distinguished," Tyrone laughed. He took a piece of scrap paper and quickly doodled something, with the same ease as someone putting down their email adres.

It was a summoning circle, and the scribbles next to it must be the incantation. "Try this! Now, I͘ n̺e̢͔̣̺̮̺̫͎e͉͇̻̥̗̲ͅd͚͔͍̻̮̕ ̦̱͓͕̝t̸̯̻͇͓o̵̬ g̭͍͈̭ͅo̸͇̤̪̮̮  - work calls, I'm afraid."

Great. Apparently the deal wouldn't be with Tyrone directly, but he was going to summon some kind of demonic used car salesman. "I need to perform this summoning?"

"Yep."

"Any special things I should worry about?" Thomas asked. "What kind of sacrifice should I prepare? Which demon am I going to summon? Am I supposed to make a deal directly with my summons or are you going to mediate? I'd like a bit more information than 'do this summoning'."

"Sorry, I really got to run," Tyrone said, a floating top hat popping up into reality and the void spreading over his shape, gold flaring in his eyes and in the brickwork-like tracings on his body. "There's something edgy about this summons - I'll see you later! Just get everything set up and call for me, right? I want to be there! Oh - and get a can of lubricating oil. B̡̳̱́ͅY͚̗̯̝̫͕̤̣̘͢͜͡Ę̡̻̙ ̴̠̖̮̙̪̀̀ͅN̫̖̩̰ͅO̵̞̯̗̬̗͙̙W̡̮̰̤̜͚!"

And he was gone.

Okay then.

Thomas looked at the doodled instructions. This was an odd circle. Those symbols didn't look like any he'd ever seen before. And that incantation...

Was Tyrone pulling his leg?

Might as well try it. A can of lubricating oil, wasn't it? Tyrone hadn't specified but he probably meant the car kind, and not the... other kind.

Right?

* * *

 

Thomas added the last flourish to the summoning circle and took a step back to admire his handiwork.

There. He was done with the preparations. Sort of - he hadn't practised any wording or terms, since Tyrone had said it wasn't necessary. This was going to be such a messy summoning, wasn't it? Not professional at all.

Speaking of messy summonings... He hoped Tyrone was doing okay, wherever he was. And he hoped it wasn't going to be one of those summons that would be mentioned on the seven o'clock news tonight.

He glanced at the clock. It had been two hours since Tyrone had left. He probably would be done by now, right?

Thomas took the business card out of his wallet. Tyrone had given it to him a while ago. It was a dignified black with Alcor's summoning circle on it, embossed in gold, very fancy. It was plastic, so the blood washed off easily.

Paranoia - no, let's call it _training_ \- made him etch a small, standard binding circle on the floor before putting the business card in the middle and activating it with a drop of blood. Demon summoning was a bit like fishing, there was always a small chance you might catch something different than you expected. Activating a summoning circle without any kind of binding around it was just asking for trouble. Thomas doubted any demon would be stupid enough to steal a summons meant for Alcor the Dreambender, but why take the risk?

Tyrone arrived in the circle in a cloud of creeping smoke and blue-edged flames, still void-black and with too many teeth.

"W̛̦̻ͦ̔̎̏̓̅͗ͮ̉̀H̢̘̣̝͙͑̽̒̕͝Ȯ̶̻̹͔̯̯̐̓̎ ̢͍̓̂̃̄͜͢D̢̤̫̯̹̝͈͚̫̾̐ͣ̌ͦ͝͠A̺̫͖̹̞̻̍ͥ͑ͩ̂͊ͦ͂̕R̟̜͙ͬͪͥͨ̊ͬE̔ͫ̽ͥ͒͐͝͞҉̭̤S̴̨̘̲̰͖̰ͤͮ͆̌̊̍ͦ̈́̅́ ̠̬̲̮̪͎͍̗̆̒ͮ́͟- oh,͖̳̞ ̷̩̗i͓̻̗̮t̶̹'̵̘s͏̩̙̘̖ ̬y͕̮̘̝͙̝ò̜͈̦̼u̱͎̘͟.͈̻ Hi Thomas! You're ready then?"

"Nice dramatic entrance," Thomas said, while Tyrone scuffed the binding circle with his foot and it unraveled. "You seem in a good mood. Your previous summons went well?"

Tyrone shrugged, his skin tone shifting to pink as he went back to his usual Tyrone appearance. "It was fine. Some guy got himself in an accident during mountaineering. That circle looks nice! So... Are you going to do it here?"

"This is the demonology lab. Where else would I go to summon an unknown demon?"

Tyrone shrugged. "Alrighty then."

"Anything else I need to prepare?"

"Nope, it all looks great!"

"And this incantation... Are you sure you didn't just make this up to mess with me?"

Tyrone snickered. "Would I ever mess with you like that?"

"You do. All the freaking time." Thomas took a deep breath and at Tyrone's directions he poured the lubricating oil around the wheeled rainbow in the center, then stepped aside. "Okay. Here goes: _Xyler craz aoshima, chrysler saab toyota, cultists crasher, rainbow basher, I wish for the best car ever!_ \- seriously Tyrone, this doesn't sound anything like - oh."

Something was happening in the circle.

And it appeared, in a glare of pulsing colourful lights and twirling rainbows and upbeat techno music.

An antique pickup truck. With a cowcatcher in the front. It was huge, and shiny, with a loud rainbow finish and hundreds of symbols drawn all over it and - was that _glitter_?

"Tà̜̫͎͔͓̣̱da̳̜͈a̞ḩ̻̥ͅ!͕͚̰̩" Tyrone said, dragging him into the summoning circle, ruining the careful chalk lines in the process. "How do you like it?"

He couldn't mean -?

Thomas had been ready for a demonic car salesman. He hadn't been ready for - _whatever_ this was. "I'm _not_ driving that."

"Why not? It still runs as smoothly as the day I first saw it."

"When was that, a thousand years ago?" Thomas said. "It looks ancient. Probably even still uses gasoline!"

"Originally it did," Tyrone admitted. "Now it runs solely on demonic energy and the souls of its victims."

"You're not selling this to me _at all_."

"Relax, it only kills evildoers. You'll be fine!"

"How does it know the difference? Cars can't think, right?" Or be summoned, actually... Thomas looked at Tyrone suspiciously. "How much demonic energy are we talking about?"

"Well..." Tyrone rubbed the back of his head. "Not sure, really. It started out as an ordinary truck, but sometimes it needed to go places normal cars can't go so I gave it a little boost, you know? And when it needed repairs and stuff - running over cultists is surprisingly hard on the paint - it was just easier to slap on some more magic and let it fix itself." He shrugged. "It might be sentient now."

"It _might_ be sentient?"

"Sometimes it disappears for a while and shows up with its grill all bloody." Tyrone patted the colourful hood of the car fondly. "Usually with a shaking person in the trunk bed, freshly rescued from being a sacrifice. My little cult flattener, who's a good car? Yes you are!"

Thomas took a careful step closer. It looked like a nice pickup truck, if you ignored the rainbow finish and the infernal aura that hovered around it. The former was more difficult to ignore than the latter, oddly enough. Those colours were eye-catching.

"See, it even has cupholders!" Tyrone said.

"I see," Thomas said. "And your summoning circle engraved on the truck bed, I noticed."

"You never know when it may come in handy."

"This car is yours?"

"No. My sister's, actually," Tyrone said. "Used to be. I haven't really thought about it in centuries... I might gift it to Mizar again when she's old enough, maybe. But you can borrow it for a few years. If you want."

It looked like a little girl's dream car, with those eyewatering shiny colours, but beggars can't be choosers, right?

"You'd let me borrow it for free?"

"Yep. Let's call it a thank you for putting up with me all the time." Tyrone's smile was bittersweet, "Besides, it'll be nice to see someone riding around in this old girl again."

Thomas looked at the truck. It seemed to be looking back.

"I suppose a new layer of paint is out of the question?" he said, without much hope. "Something a bit less eyecatching? Like canary yellow?"

"Hey now, don't go insulting Rainbow Basher. She's perfect the way she is."

"Right. Sorry." He opened the car door. The inside looked normal enough, for a car this age. Stars, even in here everything was glittery and colourful.

"Please don't eat me," he muttered to the car, as he slid into the driver's seat. Surprisingly comfortable. This was actually rather nice.

Maybe an ancient demonic car wasn't so bad. For a few years at least. Until he had the budget for something a little more _him_. "I won't have to worry about car thieves, I guess."

"That's the spirit! So you'll take her?"

"Yeah." Thomas answered Tyrone's smile with his own. "Thanks."

With a snap of his fingers a set of keys appeared in Tyrone's hand. "You'll need these."

Right.

He had a car. Sort of.

Now how the hell was he going to get it out of the lab?

* * *

 

"Nice wheels dude," Brad said, inspecting the truck when he and Eduardo next came to visit. "Shame about the colour though."

A door flipped open and smacked Brad in his back. "Hey!"

"Yeah, she does that," Thomas said. "Don't insult her. She doesn't like it."

Brad paused. " _Why_ is your car sentient?"

"Ask Tyrone. I'm just borrowing her from him."

"Long story, not important," Tyrone said. "Want to take a ride?"

"Sure," Eduardo said. He didn't hesitate at all to hop in. "Maybe I should get my license too. Would help with the job hunting, I suppose."

"You don't have a driver's license?" Thomas asked, taking the driver's seat.

Eduardo shrugged. "I never felt the need. Besides, I don't have a car anyway."

"I don't have a license either," Tyrone said.

"I could teach you, Eddy," Brad offered. "Not to brag, but I'm a pretty good chauffeur myself."

"I'd like that. Thanks Brad."

"This is going to sound weird, but would you teach me too?" Tyrone said. They stared at him and he smiled sheepishly. "It seems like a fun thing to try, you know? Driving a car like a normal human being. Besides, I'm omniscient, I know all there is to know about driving, how hard can it be? Also, my reflexes are _quite_ a bit better than those of you humans. It'll be easy!"

"Sure," Brad said. "We'll take a spin in my convertible."

* * *

 

When Brad returned he was covered in tomato sauce. So was his car, slightly more dented than when they left. Tyrone, mostly sauce-free, got up from the driver's seat with a sheepish: "This is a bit harder than I thought it would be."

" _Never again_ ," Brad said. "Not for all the riches in the world!"

"Why? Does he drive like a demon?"Eduardo said, while Thomas was struggling not to laugh.

" ** _Worse!_** "

Thomas patted the hood of Rainbow Basher. "Don't worry sweetheart. I'm a much more careful driver."

The engine purred.


	2. Could Be Anybody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There had been some issues in the past about conventiongoers sneaking in cursed or demonic objects, either knowingly or unknowingly. There had even been a few cases of careless summonings. To combat that, they'd hired an expert who had to monitor the crowd and discreetly deal with any trouble that might pop up.
> 
> She was that expert. And trouble had popped up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to blame MichiruCipher for planting this idea in my head :-) 
> 
> Also heavily inspired by that 1998 film with Denzel Washington, "Fallen".

Elisabeth was perhaps a bit more sloppy than usual when drawing the circle. But weak bindings wouldn't make any difference in this case and she couldn't waste too much time. She had a job to do.

There had been some issues in the past about conventiongoers sneaking in cursed or demonic objects, either knowingly or unknowingly. There had even been a few cases of careless summonings. To combat that, they'd hired an expert who had to monitor the crowd and discreetly deal with any trouble that might pop up.

She was that expert. And trouble had popped up.

The circle was activated with a drop of blood and smoke bloomed in the center, revealing a floating figure, winged and wreathed in blue flames.

Alcor the Dreambender opened eyes of black and gold, and grinned at her.

"Why _hello_ , Adams! How has life been treating you?"

"I didn't call you to chit-chat," she said curtly. "I want to make a deal."

She wasn't asking help from a horrible demon, not really. She was asking help from a fellow expert.

Yes. That sounded a lot better.

He stretched his wings and turned lazily in the air. "Someone is in a hurry."

"Are you going to be difficult?" She crossed her arms in front of her. "There are plenty of other demons I can summon, you know."

"Not in _this_ crappy circle," he said. He poked at the edge of the binding with one clawed finger, and it unraveled without further ado. "Even that wimp Itpolec would have broken through that without any effort. I'm a bit disappointed in you, really."

"Let's cut to the chase," she said. "I've been hired to do security at this big event. I noticed one of the guests is possessed, but before I could banish the demon it slipped into another person. It's a bodysnatcher."

Summon a stronger demon to help you deal with a weaker one. It was smart in theory but way too dangerous to consider in reality, because if you couldn't deal with the weaker one then what chance did you have to control the stronger one?

This went against all she had learned during her studies. She knew Alcor was dangerous and tricky. But it was really hard to be properly afraid of someone you had caught doodling sheep on his notes during boring classes... not to mention that armpit-concert with Hallman and Noguerra during their graduation party.

"A bodysnatcher? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she said. The signs had been obvious in hindsight. The magitech alarm had pinged when the woman stepped through. When security called for the woman to open her purse and show if she had any cursed or forbidden magical objects, she'd stumbled, touching the security guy to keep her balance - and suddenly stopped opening her bag, looking confused, while the security guy had turned his back to her and went inside.

She had tracked the security guy, just to be certain she hadn't imagined what she had seen, and it had happened again - a light touch, and then it was the security guy who was blinking for a moment and went back to work with a shrug, as the cosplayer whose arm he'd brushed against abruptly changed the direction he had been walking towards and slipped deeper into the crowds. His friend called after him, asking where he was going, but he was ignored.

She had seen it change hosts for one more time, into a middle-aged woman, before she lost track of it in the mass of people and merchandise.

"I need your help to find and corner it before it this goes south," she said. "In return you'll get a freezer's worth of ice cream and meat."

Why was Alcor grinning like that?

"A _monster hunt_ ," he said. "You summoned me for a monster hunt!"

"Yes," she said. "I suppose you could call it that. Are you _vibrating_?"

"Well excuse me for being excited! I haven't gone on a monster hunt in _ages_! Come on then, le̳͚t͚'͚͢s ̘̳̮̖͘D̫̙̲̠̥̺̹O͚͈̫ ̨T̹͇̗̺̰̯̹H̛̞͖̣̹̱I̗̜̰͕̻̹͢S͢!"

She blinked at his offered hand. Were the terms clear enough? "So you'll assist me in _discreetly_ catching and destroying the bodysnatcher, and you'll prevent it from leaving this convention without me noticing. In return you get the contents of the freezer  marked 'demons' at my home. You will not willfully injure anyone present during this event, except the bodysnatcher itself, and that includes the mortal host it is possessing."

"Yes, yes. D̛͖̞̝͓̤̜͎́͡E͖̬̫͚͍͈̝̘͘͟A̷̦̱̱͖̲̖̗̳͝ͅĻ̫͉!"

She shook his hand and felt the demon fire tingle on her skin.

"You really have a freezer just for demons?" Alcor asked.

"I like to be prepared," she said. "Now, let's catch this thing before it does something horrible."

On the upside, it was limited by the body it used. It couldn't do anything its human body couldn't do.

On the downside, you didn't need infernal magics to wreck this place and go on a horrible killing spree. Humans could do that without any supernatural assistence.

Bodysnatchers were a type of demon of such a low rank they couldn't even make any deals. They didn't have any impressive powers either. No fire or reality-bending or great healing or whatever. They were one-trick ponies, really - but it was one hell of a trick. They didn't need a deal or permission to enter a body. A mere touch was enough. There were some who didn't even need a touch to switch hosts, but those were even more rare than ordinary bodysnatchers and from what she'd seen they were dealing with a normal one here, fortunately.

"So what's the plan?" Alcor said, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

"Find it, trap it, kill it," she said. "I've prepared a strong containment circle in a quiet corner downstairs. We locate the bodysnatcher in the crowd, discreetly drive it towards the binding, and when it's trapped you kill it. Should work, as long as we keep it from touching anyone when we've got it near the circle. It might flee the convention if it realises it's being hunted." She hesitated. "It can't possess you, right?"

"Sorry, was that a serious question?" Alcor laughed. "Of course it can't possess me. I'd like to see it try though! Would save me the effort of ripping it out of its host. Your plan isn't bad, Adams. Just one little problem. How are we going to find it? I don't know what kind of event this is, but from the level of noise downstairs it seems like a busy one. Lots of potential hosts."

"Can't you just sense it or something?"

He made a face. "Can you track a mosquito through a crowded room? It's a bit like that. Bodysnatchers are too low-level to 'ping' my senses, so to speak. I will recognize it when I see it, but if you were hoping I could simply walk straight towards the possessed victim? I'll have to disappoint you."

"Great," she said. "This is going to take longer than I thought."

"Let's check out this event," Alcor said, his grin wide enough to nearly split his face. His appearance shifted into Tyrone Evergreen, ordinary human boy. "What kind of thing is it, anyway? A demonology convention?"

"Close," she said, leading him downstairs, away from the backstage area. "But not quite."

She opened the door to the big hall.

The soundtrack of the latest Twin Souls reboot blared from the speakers, mostly drowned out by all the noise of a fan convention in full swing.

Three people with fake wings and top hats walked by. The nearest stall was loudly commending their assortment of Alcor plushies: "Great for cuddling, get yer own demon to snuggle with, buy one and get one Woodsman keychain for free!"

"Hell," Alcor said flatly, staring at the colourful booths, the mass of people, most of them in cosplay. "This is Hell."

"Don't be so dramatic," she said. "It's just a convention."

"A _Twin Souls_ convention. This is _Twincon_."

"Not only Twin Souls any more, actually. There are some stalls about that new anime, and the latest Twin Souls reboot movie, and a bit about that old cartoon, Mizar the Magnificent. And an insane amount of Princess Mizar merchandise of course. Some other things too. _Everything_ Alcor- and Mizar-themed, more or less." She smiled. "You'll fit right in."

Alcor's horrified gaze was still locked on the crowd. "This is revenge for something, isn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Now, come on, our target isn't going to wait around while you stare at your adoring fans."

He followed her reluctantly, shying away from the groups of teenage girls that were giggling about the full-sized Alcor statue with the plump lips and the wind-swept hair and the bare, muscled chest.

Alcor looked at it with utter revulsion and Elisabeth had to smile.

"Doesn't look anything like you," she said.

"I know, right?" He glanced around. "You said something about a quiet corner? To draw the containment circle?"

"Already done that. There's a side exit that's barely used. I've painted the circle right before the door." Most visitors wouldn't know what that circle meant and would assume it was decoration. She hoped.

"Clever. Where's that exit?"

"This way."

She showed him the hallway leading to the door. There were only a handful of people here. Her circle looked undisturbed.

"Can you do anything to keep other people away from here?" she asked.

Alcor frowned. "Not much, unless you want to alert the bodysnatcher I'm here. I'm shielding like crazy as it is. Hm, maybe this..."

An unpleasant odour spread through the hallway. It smelled like there was a blocked drainage pipe somewhere.

"That works," Elisabeth said, as the few guests in this hallway crinkled their noses and went back to the big convention hall.

"There's a hole in your plan," Alcor said. "A rather big one even. How exactly are you planning to drive it here? It's not going to be impressed if you start chasing it. And I'm definitely _not_ going to reveal myself out there. Besides, you wanted this to be handled discreetly."

Revealing himself wouldn't help anyway. He would just get mobbed by his fangirls before he could do anything useful.

"I _have_ thought this through, you know." She dug in her pocket and took out one of her spray bottles. "Rosemary, sage and wild lovage. When we spot it, I'll draw a perimeter on the floor with this. It's only a weak perimeter but it should be enough to stall it at least. It's not going to push through if it thinks there's an easier way out. We'll make the room it can flee smaller and smaller, until only this exit is left, and then we've got it cornered."

Alcor blinked at her. "You weren't kidding about being prepared."

"I spend four years with a demon in my class," she said. "What did you expect?"

"Touché, Adams." He gingerly took the spare spray can she offered him. "Good thing I have no trouble passing over those kind of perimeters, or this could have been tricky."

"I know," she said, remembering the long hours she's spend spraying every doorway in the university building with her homemade herbal tincture. Evergreen hadn't even _noticed_ it.

God, she'd tried so many weird things during that last term as a demonology student.

She took a deep breath. No time to waste! "Right. So the plan is clear? We'll chase the bodysnatcher here. Now we only have to find it."

Easier said than done.

They roamed the convention, both the big hall as the smaller side rooms where the book signings and Q&A sessions were held. Elisabeth tried to spot the tell-tale stumble of the bodysnatcher changing hosts, but in this crowd... She didn't have a demon's Sight.

And the annoying demon she'd contracted for help kept getting distracted.

"Hundred Shades of Gold? Isn't that the book all those middle-aged woman are suddenly into?"

"You sound surprised," Elisabeth said, as they looked at all the people standing in line for an autograph. "Don't you know the thrilling love story of Celestabelle and Mr Gold?"

Alcor blinked. "But isn't that the book - series, whatever - with all the, you know... steamy bits? As in, _even worse_ than Twin Souls?"

"That's the one," Elisabeth said, definitely _not_ mentioning how worn and dog-eared her copies at home were.

"Why is it _here?_ "

"It's based on Twin Souls fanfiction, originally. Only more adult."

Alcor's expression was horrified. "I have a regular who always calls me Mr Gold when she summons me. I thought it was just because of my eyes."

"You have regulars?"

"Now I won't be able to look at her without wondering if she's read this stupid series and if she might be thinking about - oh stars why?" He groaned. "What have I ever done to deserve this?"

She stopped walking. "Well. You _are_ a demon."

"Yeesh, shout it any louder, will you? Are you trying to get me mobbed?"

She rolled her eyes at his antics. "While it would be fun to see you run away from a horde of screaming fangirls, may I remind you we have a job to do? _I_ have a job to do. You promised to help me do it. So try to focus, will you?"

"I'm trying," he said. "But this is enemy territory. Forgive me for being on edge."

Enemy territory... "You're being ridiculous. Now keep looking around. The bodysnatcher has got to be here somewhere."

They were on their fifth round through the hall when Alcor suddenly froze.

"There," he said.

She followed his gaze. One of the vendors was nodding his head to the beat of the background music. He reached to hand over change to a customer. Shivered. Frowned.

The customer walked away without his purchase. Moving his head to the music.

"Discreetly," she reminded Alcor, as they moved towards their target.

The stalls were set up in such a way to make little 'streets' in the big hall, and she sprayed a line of herbal tincture on the floor to close this street off. In the corner of her eye she saw Alcor do the same at the next crossroads. He nodded at her and she followed him - the bodysnatcher had taken the road on the left.

This was going well!

She managed to barricade two more roads with the spray before Alcor stopped moving, shaking his head.

"I lost it," he said. "Sorry."

"It can't have gone far," she said. "Keep looking."

The noise of the convention was really getting on her nerves. Oh great - there was a stall with those stupid 'demon voice' spell strips Dewitt had teased her with.

"Oh yeah, I summon Alcor all the time," a familiar voice said. "He's actually one of my closest friends."

Alcor paused to look. Like many other guys the owner of the voice was wearing an old-fashioned costume and fake wings. He was also wearing a metal wire on his head with a top hat attached to it, making it appear to be floating. His bragging was aimed at the redhead in a rather revealing Princess Mizar costume.

_"Brad?"_

It really was Hallman. He turned around, his expression suddenly deer-in-headlights. "Tyrone? Uh - I mean, 'Brad'? Who is this 'Brad' you're speaking of? I don't know any 'Brad'."

The girl laughed. "You're so funny Bradley! No, you're right - it's Alcor now." She tapped his hat so it wiggled on the string. "You're my Alcor and I'm your Mizar."

"Yes, sweetheart," he said, with a weak smile. "I'm, haha, I'm Alcor now."

"Funny," Alcor said. "So am I."

Hallman was blushing to his roots. The girl glanced at Alcor. "You're not even in costume," she said.

"No. I'm not," Alcor said. " _Really_ , Brad? I did not expect to find you here, of all places... Nice hat by the way."

"I'm on a date," Hallman said apologetically. He turned to the girl. "Er, Princess Star? These are my friends from college. Adams and Tyrone."

The girl smiled at them. "Glad to meet you! Bradley  has been telling the wildest tales about his college days! He said Alcor attended class with him, can you imagine?" She laughed as if it was the most amusing thing she'd ever heard.

"No, really? Those are wild tales indeed," Elisabeth said.

Hallman's laugh was hollow.

"Just kidding around," he said. "Princess Star? Would you mind?"

"You want a moment in private with your friends?" the girl asked. "Well... Okay. I'll go check out that stall with the coloured contacts. Don't take too long okay? I'll miss you too much!"

"Nice meeting you, goodbye," Alcor said, as the girl waved at them and moved to the stall she was talking about.

Hallman tugged on his shiny star-shaped cufflinks.

"Well. This is awkward," he said. His 'floating' hat bobbed up and down on its metal wire.

"Yes," Alcor said. "Yes it is."

There was a short silence. Then Hallman seemed to realise something. "Wait - why are you here? I thought you didn't like this kind of thing? Oh. You're here with Adams." He did a double-take. "Oh my god _you_ are here _with_ _Adams?_ "

"No he isn't!" Elisabeth snapped, while Alcor gaped at Hallman like a fish on dry land. "At least not in the way you're thinking. I have _some_ self-respect."

"Hey!" Alcor protested. "What is that supposed to mean? I'll have you know there are thousands of girls who would gladly go on a date with me. I mean, just look around!"

Elisabeth pointed towards one of the large bedsheets with half-naked and sultry Dreambenders on it. "They would go on a date with _that._ Not with you."

"Well I don't want to date anyone anyway, so it doesn't matter. But I could if I wanted to. Easily."

"Is that a demon thing?" Hallman said. He shrugged. "Just wondering. You never hear about demons dating. Not even eachother. Maybe they just don't." He got a very pensive look on his face. "Huh. But then how do you get demon babies? Do demon babies even exist?  How does that work? Do you -"

"Well-this-has-been-fun-gotta-go-now-see-you-later-Brad!" With those words Alcor fled into the crowd.

"He's helping me hunt a bodysnatcher," Elisabeth said to a confused Hallman. "That's why I summoned him. So keep an eye out for anything strange, will you?"

He blinked. A young man cosplaying as a six-armed pyramid walked past them.

"Yeah," Hallman said. "If I see something strange. Sure. But really - a bodysnatcher? Here?"

"Keep it quiet, we don't want a panic," she said, and went to follow Alcor before she lost track of him in this crowd.

Alcor was hiding next to one of the many foodstalls.

"Are you upset? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, you know," she teased him. "And it could be worse. He's not roleplaying steamy Twin Souls scenes with her - as far as we know."

"Thanks for putting that image in my head, Adams," he said, and exaggerated a shiver.

"I'm just saying it could be worse."

"I know. It's still weird to see a friend dress up like me to flirt with a girl." He groaned. "I really, really, _really_ hate that book."

"Which one? There are so many. The original Twin Souls, its sequels, the spin-offs -"

"Shh," he motioned her to be silent, his eyes trained on one of the people in line for the restrooms. "I see it."

Right. They were hunting.

Damn it, she couldn't afford to get distracted like this. She wasn't visiting the convention with a friend, she was here to work.

So she got to work.

Alcor kept an eye on the movements of the bodysnatcher and she discreetly sprayed lines on the ground. Conventiongoers tracked through her lines, either not noticing or not caring about the slight wetness on the floor, and she needed her second spray bottle just to redo some boundaries that had gotten smeared too much before they managed to dry.

The scent of the spray reminded her of the baked potatoes her mother made.

The big Q&A session with the actors of the _Twin Souls: Reincarnated_ movie was about to start in one of the side halls. Elisabeth felt like a salmon trying to swim upstream as the flow of the crowd turned to that side hall.

"Don't lose it now," she muttered to Alcor, as they tried to keep their footing against the flurry of excited cosplayers. An oversized foam axe smacked her back. She sent a death glare at that stupid Woodsman who should look where he waved that axe around, damn it.

"I won't," Alcor promised. "It's in that girl right now. Right there."

"I see it," she said.

She could see the bodysnatcher - it saw her too.

It looked straight at her with the eyes of a girl in princess costume, and smiled slowly. That smile didn't belong on a little girl's face.

Touch. And now an harried father escorting three rowdy kids turned his head to her to give her that same smile.

Touch. An older woman, cosplaying as some obscure side character or maybe just really into the color orange.

Touch. A security guy, his hand brushing the gun he was allowed to carry.

Her heart jumped in her throat. Weapons weren't allowed at the convention. The exception being, of course, the security people. She herself was carrying a knife, as hired curse expert and exorcist.

It was circling her. Playing with her.

Demons liked getting challenged, didn't they?

The bodysnatcher froze at the edges of one of the herbal boundaries she'd sprayed on the floor.

It _could_ push through. You couldn't achieve the same effect of a complex containment circle with _crushed herb juice_. But as she hoped, the bodysnatcher didn't bother with the boundary. It turned around and picked a way with less resistance.

"We've been noticed," she said to Alcor, who was trailing behind her.

Touch, and now it slipped into a young man selling star-shaped cakes, who abandoned his stall and started running.

They set in the chase. Elisabeth closed roads off like mad while Alcor kept his eyes on the fleeing figure, that seemed to change every time Elisabeth looked - a young man, a Gliese cosplayer, a woman, a teenager, a mother - it was fleeing, it was panicking as it noticed more and more routes closed to it, and instead of doing the smart thing and push through, they had it spooked enough that it wasn't being clever - this was really working, _they had it_! They had it!

This was so _exhilarating_!

It was in the body of a twenty-something girl with a _Mizcor 4EVER_ shirt when they managed to seperate it from the crowd and it decided to flee to the nearest exit - the same exit where she'd made the circle.

The hallway was still empty. The bodysnatcher ran to the door, only to stop abruptly as it noticed the trap on the floor. It turned around, but Alcor was already blocking the other door, his movements fluid and predatory as he got ready to pounce.

It was captured and it knew it. There were no humans nearby it could touch to escape, and the only exits were either through Alcor or blocked by a strong binding circle. One step inside that circle and it would be trapped between the lines.

Elisabeth stayed safely behind Alcor as he slowly advanced on the bodysnatcher. She'd done her part. Now it was his show.

She did use the last of her spray to make a weak boundary in the doorway, just in case. Could slow it down a little if Alcor did manage to botch this up.

They'd done it. They'd won! God, she loved this feeling...

The girl turned towards Elisabeth and her eyes gleamed maliciously. Then the girl stumbled and she'd seen this before, hadn't she, that momentary misstep the victim made as the bodysnatcher left for its next host, but this didn't make any sense because no one was touching it and -

It had tricked them.

The realisation came too late, too late.

Something was burrowing inside her head, her mind. Her hands curled into fists, her mouth opened in a scream she couldn't get past her throat. She was drowning in filth, suffocating in it.

A few steps was all it would take. She _had to_ get to the containment circle -

She **-**

She _had_ _to_ \-          

She 

had

to                

Her mouth curled into a smile. "This is a surprise! I wanted to take a look at the ones who have been hunting me so ineffectively, but I would never have dreamt it was you, the Dreambender himself! Lord Alcor, I'm honored to make your acquintance." She made a mocking bow. "Oh, you thought I had to touch a body to slip into it? Really now, Lord Alcor, I did not expect you to be tricked so easily! Your sidekick, yes - but you? This is a feather in my cap and no mistake!"

"Apparently so," Alcor said, his face unreadable as he watched her. "Everyone makes mistakes sometimes, I suppose."

"Oh, _yes_ ," her voice said, dark and breathy. "Everyone does. Even the great and _powerful_."

She moved around him, laughing softly as he turned his head to follow her. "May I ask why you are hunting me? I'm doing nothing wrong. Just having some fun - you know how it is. Delicious how they struggle, isn't it? Like watching a pinned butterfly." Her smile widened. "I think I'll let this one remember my visit. Teaches her some humility."

"You're possessing my summoner," Alcor said. "I have a deal with her."

"A deal to hunt me? Well, congratulations - you've caught me! Now, what are you going to do?" Her voice dripped amusement. "Respectfully, lord Alcor, I am too quick for you. Lions need not bother about ants, and this ant is leaving whether you let me or not. There are so many warm bodies waiting for me, only a thought away. You can capture and kill this one but I will be long gone before you even touch this skin. Face it, lord Dreambender, that delightful little plan with the containment circle? It was doomed to fail."

"Oh, I don't know," Alcor said, his voice airy. "You did just step into the circle."

The bodysnatcher laughed. "What? Of course I didn't -" It looked down. At the drawn lines encircling her feet. The symbols started to glow.

The containment snapping closed felt like an iron band around her stomach, fizzling with power. The bodysnatcher was trapped. It turned its attention inward, to her, as it realised she'd used its momentary lapse in concentration to sneakily move her body a few small, important steps.

 **Rage**. It was crushing, ripping - it was _acid_ biting away at her soul H́OW͠ DA͞R̢E ̕SḨE͢ _T̮͈͉͎͔͉͔̀R̦̪I͍̹̪̪C̱͔̺͖͚̩͞K͕̟ ̳̖̭̗͇̩̀IT͍͙̹̙͟ ̻͓͓̩_ SH͖̟E̼̫͓͇͙̩ ͍W͓͉̜̮O̘̤U̥͓̥̣͠L̬͔̻D̖̩̫̞͔̹̯ ̴ ** _P̰̙͍̳͉̩͇AY̴̲̙̣̤̯͇_** ̷͇̗ͅ **I̖̤̰͎̯̣͝Ț̵̨̥̻ ͕͎̼̝̭̳̀W̮̲̹̬̺͇͓̼O̹͕̗͈̠̰͙̯͟͢U̸͖̫̠̰̮L̤̬̻̪͘D̡͕̦́ _R͈̻̥̲ͧ͑̀ỈͬͨͅP̜̞͖̮̐̎̆ͅ ̩͙͔̲̍ͨ͆͆H͍̤̪̘͕̟̜̬͌̔̊̈̂ͫͭ͗͒Ë͉̪̙́͐ͬ̿̈́̏R̦̘̮͚̹͕͊ͤ͌ ͉̩̼̗̰ͪĀ̻̫̖͆̊̔̽ͤ͒P̬̰ͯ̇ͤ̾̿̈͋̚A̯̻̝̞̞̰̤̦͑ͧͦ̔̂ͭR̭̝̳̟̿̈́͂Ṭ̫̤̃͗̎͋̍̽ͧͅ_**

It had taken a lot of strenght to move, straining against the corruption.

She was small, and mortal, and tired.

 _Don't give up now, Adams_ , a voice made of fire and starlight reached out to her, through her, in her head and heart and soul. _You're too stubborn to give up. I've got you._

It burned but the filth burned quicker as the blinding star separated what was _hers_ from what wasn't.

Her eyes were watering.

Alcor's hand, ethereal and ghostly, reached _inside_ her chest and lifted something out. It was oily and horrible and screeched as it was ripped out of the containment circle, securely trapped between his fingers.

"Delicious how they struggle, isn't it?" Alcor said. There was nothing human about his expression anymore. He opened a mouth that suddenly had two rows of needle-sharp teeth and swallowed the squirming creature whole.

She fell to her knees.

 _Her_ knees. _Her_ eyes. _Her_ body.

"Let me help you up," Alcor said, and offered her a hand that looked tangible and normal.

Her body _hurt._

She took his hand, leaning heavily on his shoulder as he helped her stand. She needed to say something. "'m not your sidekick."

That startled a laugh out of him. "No, you sure aren't!"

"And I'm not a butterfly."

She was _a_ _freaking_ **_wasp_**.

"Can't argue with that," he said. "You're okay, Adams." Was that relief in his voice? "Just avoid getting possessed for a while and you'll be fine."

"I'll try," she said. It felt like every single one of her cells was aching. But it wasn't her _body_ that was bruised, was it?

"I can take your pain away," he offered. "Fix you right up. It'll only cost you the memory of being possessed. What do you say?"

"No," she said. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling every ache, the very _rawness_ of a soul scrubbed clean. "No deal."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." She took a trembling breath. "I need to remember. I need to remember _I can_ _do this_."

"I can respect that," he said, quietly.

"It's dead?"

Alcor licked his lips. "Oh yes, very much so."

"Good," she said. "Serves it right for monologuing like that."

She pushed him away and he frowned. "You really think you can stand on your own? Seriously Adams, your legs are shaking like -"

"I can do this," she repeated, and let go of his shoulder. She straightened her back. Took another deep breath, and took a step.

Her breath. Her feet. Her body.

"Stubborn," Alcor said, almost fondly.

"And don't you forget it," she said.

She was feeling better already.

"What... What just happened?"

Right. The previous victim. The girl was leaning against the wall, her eyes wide and confused. She didn't even seem to realise she had been possessed a few moments ago. Her eyes were trained on Alcor.

"Oh. My. _Gosh_!" the girl said. "You're Alcor! You're actually him!"

Alcor blinked.

"Noooo," he said, slowly. "I, er. This is cosplay! We're just practising our performance for the cosplay contest! Pretty neat huh? She pretends to be possessed, and I pretend to eat - this isn't working is it?" He grimaced and turned to Elisabeth. "Sorry Adams, you're on your own!"

The girl squealed again - high pitched and excited - as Alcor magically popped away. "That was _him_! That was actually _him_! Oh I can't wait to tell everyone - I didn't know he would be present, I should have asked for an autograph! Did you summon him? Was that a real possession? I should have filmed it, I don't even have a _picture_ \- do you think he'd let me take his picture if he came back, can you summon him again?"

"Demon summoning is not allowed at this convention," Elisabeth said. "Leave summonings to the professionals."

The girl wasn't listening to a word she said. "He called you by name! Have you two met before? Oh my gosh! Are you two maybe -"

Elisabeth stopped her slow and painful walk towards the backstage area. She turned to the girl, and narrowed her eyes.

The girl stopped babbling and paled.

" _No_ ," Elisabeth said, slowly and with emphasis. "Demons aren't sexy and romantic and exciting. They are tricky and dangerous and _annoying_." She took a deep breath. "Now please make yourself useful and go get someone from security. I need to make a report before I fall over."


	3. Why Thomas Couldn't Go To The Poker Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas was going to die.  
> His cousin had warned him demonology would get him killed one day. Funny thing though, it wouldn't be by a demon he had summoned but by the demon he had befriended.  
> Tough luck, that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to blame MajiatheWriter169 for this one. ;-)

It was a hot summer's day. Thomas had spend the entire morning in the lab, assisting Hicks with updating the so-called Safe Summons List. This was the list of low-level demons who could be bound easily and who had agreed to be summoned by novices. 'Safe' was perhaps not entirely correct, but which demon was, right? Newbie summoners had to start somewhere.

There had been some issues.

Well. One big issue, actually.

"Not one," Hicks said. He leaned back in his desk chair with a sigh. "Not even _one of them_ agreed. Other years they _all_ do and I have my pick of which ones to add to the list."

Thomas glanced at Tyrone, who had abandoned gravity for the day and was idly floating through the room.

"At least we can keep using the current list, right sir?" he said. The standard deal was for six years before renegotiating. Most of the demons on the list had four or five years left.

"For now, yes," Hicks said. "But I wonder how long they'll keep responding to the summonings before bailing entirely, deal or no deal."

"They won't," Tyrone said. "Breaking a deal like that _hurts_ , and not in the fun way."

"There's a fun way?" Thomas blinked. "Forget I asked. Please forget I asked." Maria would've been all over an innocent comment like that.

It was weird, being here with just Hicks and Tyrone for company. He kinda missed the others. Which was ridiculous because it had only been what, a month? But they were all job hunting or - in Brad's case -having a long and luxurious vacation on some tropical island.

Well, at least he would see Maria and Eduardo tonight. And Lucy Ann, who for some reason had really hit it off with Maria. He'd never admit it out loud but the thought of those two scheming together was slighty terrifying.

Poker night. They should make it a regular thing, first Friday of the month or something like that. Everyone was so busy suddenly, he didn't want them to drift apart.

"Thomas, could you look up the specifics of summoning Aeothnar again? He was a no show, maybe there was a flaw in the summoning circle we missed."

"I'm on it, sir," Thomas said.

"Eh, that circle was fine," Tyrone said, drifting on his back near the ceiling. He shot them a truly evil smile. "Want me to talk to them?"

"No offense Tyrone, but you're the problem," Thomas said.

"So let me solve it! I'd even do it for free," Tyrone said. "No deal necessary. I'll just give them a fr͓i͈̖͉̤̘̮e͏̮nd̨͖̪l̠̟̭̤̱y͏̬̦̥̞͎̦ͅ ̲̤̼̣͡v̻͍i͉̩s͡i̸͎̭̮ṱ͇̞̠͍̪̪."

"Let's keep that as plan B," Thomas said.

Tyrone shrugged and turned around in the air. "Your loss. Just let me know if you change your mind."

Thomas rolled his eyes and bowed his head back to the stack of notes he was working on.

Hicks was silent, but he was still on edge around Tyrone. It was a bit of a nasty shock to discover your top student was secretly Alcor the Dreambender. And he may not have been entirely aware that having Thomas as his doctorate student meant having 'Tyrone' around too... at least he hadn't withdrawn the job offer.

Besides, even if he wanted to - what could a mere mortal do to prevent Alcor from following him around? Nothing, that's what. So Hicks was rather gracious about it, even if he tended to speak to Tyrone in a careful and respectful tone of voice.

A little strangled scream made Thomas look up. The sound had come from Hicks, who apparently hadn't expected Tyrone to be literally hovering over his shoulder.

"Sorry," Tyrone said. "Didn't mean to startle you! I'm just curious what you're doing. Going to try Bx’tfnah the Vengeful  next, I see. Wanna know something funny? He has the _worst_ hay fever. You wouldn't think it possible for a demon but even _flowers_ make him sneeze uncontrollably. I heard he once got summoned in a forest and he set it on fire, just by sneezing."

"You're not referring to the Great Fire of Aokigahara, are you?" Hicks said.

"Could be. Hey, professor, you should add Rtjxctduc to the list. He's pretty low-level and he's stupid enough to take that deal without worrying about having me around. Just take care to say his name right - he's _really_ touchy about that."

"I just heard you say it and I still can't figure out how to pronounce it," Thomas said. "Is that the same demon as Arduc the Unpronouncable?"

"Yeah, but don't call him that to his face or he'll eat your spleen and vocal cords." Tyrone grinned. "Or he'll try, at least."

"Thank you for that information," Hicks said. "I'll make a note of it."

Tyrone drifted back to the window, to enjoy the sunlight. "I can give some more tips about fun demons to summon? In return for anything I want from the vending machine in the teacher's lounge?"

"I , ah, respectfully decline. Maybe later."

That was probably a smart choice. Knowing Tyrone, 'anything I want' meant he would clean out the entire vending machine. Good thing demons didn't have to worry about dental cavities, because the amount of sugar Tyrone regularly consumed should have rotted away his teeth a long time ago.

He liked having Tyrone around. Really. But it could sometimes complicate things... like trying to work. A demon flying around the room was pretty distracting.

"Hey, I'm wondering... Why haven't you asked me yet if I want to be on the list?"

That... was actually a good question. Thomas looked at Hicks, who seemed more tense than ever.

"I could be a lot of help," Tyrone added. "Just think about it! Not just for summonings, you know. The students could even test their binding circles on me, good practice for them." His smile was wide and smug. "Of course it's not like anyone could actually manage to bind me, but I can probably tell you the relative strenght of each binding before I break it."

"No. Absolutely not." Hicks sounded horrified. "The university board would never allow it."

"Why not? I'm known for going easy on innocent newbies."

"You're also known for _California_ ," Hicks said. Tyrone's smile disappeared, like a cloud had blotted out the sun.  "With all due respect, Alcor - I may be insane enough to believe your intentions are friendly and that you find this charade too amusing to give it up - but there's _no way_ the university board will let me add you to the list. A demon who can't be bound by any circle, who is known for being extremely unpredictable? Not a chance."

Tyrone touched down on the windowsill, curling up so his chin rested on his knees.

"Right," he said. "Of course, yeah, that makes sense."

Thomas went to sit on the windowsill next to his demon friend. "Maybe in a few years," he said. "And you can always help out in class as Tyrone Evergreen, teacher's assistent." He glanced at Hicks. "Right, sir?"

"Well..."

Come on, didn't he see how miserable Tyrone looked? Why did he have to mention California anyway? Okay, it was probably the most famous example of the destruction Alcor could unleash, but it was ages ago and Tyrone was really trying. He couldn't help he had this century-long demonic PMS sometimes  - and damn Brad for getting that comparison stuck in Thomas his head.

"I suppose I can't object to that," Hicks said. "Another pair of hands is..." He trailed off, his eyes glued to the window behind them. "Strange."

"Yes sir?"

"No, I meant - outside."

Thomas turned to look. Mist? No - smoke, a white billowing cloud outside the windows of Hicks's office. It looked like it was coming from the old shed. That shed had been unused since Thomas' second year as a student, when the cryptozoology department had sponsored a program to keep carnivorous chickens. It had ended pretty much the way you'd expect, with less fingers than it started.

 "It's on fire," Thomas said. "Should we call someone?"

"Someone else beat you to it," said Tyrone, and nodded to the people who were now showing up to douse the shed. He opened the window and leaned forward to get a better look. Thomas had to fight the ridiculous impulse to tell him to be careful or he'd fall out - Tyrone could _fly_. He was _fine_.

The fire alarm started to blare through the building, a loud beeping noise.

"Should we evacuate?" Thomas asked.

"Not until the continuous alarm," Hicks said. "This is only the pre-alarm. I doubt it'll come to that though. They seem to have it handled already."

The smoke was starting to drift through the window. It smelled... odd.

"Better close it again," Hicks said, just when a sudden breeze blew a fair amount of the smoke inside his office.

Thomas' eyes watered, both from the smoke itself as from the smell. What _was_ that?

Hicks was coughing too. Then his eyes widened and he jumped into action. He pulled Tyrone inside and he slammed the window closed, every inch of his body expressing a growing terror.

"Run," he said. "Right now, Thomas. Leave."

Thomas frowned. It was just a little fire, outside even. Was it really that serious?

Wel, it must be, because Hicks had actually touched Tyrone to pull him back inside and he was still so jumpy around -

Wait.

Tyrone, who wasn't saying anything. Who hadn't coughed at the smoke, but was just sitting on the windowsill, slumped against the glass. His eyes were half-lidded and completely golden from edge to edge.

"Tyrone? You okay?" Thomas said. Hicks took his shoulder and pulled him back, edging them towards the door.

"I know that scent," he said. " _Yggdrasil_."

It felt like a bucket of ice was poured over Thomas' back.

Yggdrasil.

There wasn't that much known about the herb. It was magical, there were some salves and potions that used it, but it was really only famous amongst demonologists for one thing.

It had a _horrible_ effect on demons. It lowered their inhibitions completely. It reduced them to a mindless, animal-like state. There had been records of it... Summonings gone horribly awry because the incense had been tainted with Yggdrasil, the demon breaking through its bindings by pure rage and leaving a trail of blood and entrails through the entire town, completely unable to be stopped. They would not stop their rampage for anything, not even the offer of a _soul_ \- not before the Yggdrasil had run its course. The only solution was to trap and banish them, if you could manage it.

And Tyrone - **Alcor** \- had just breathed in a whole lungful of that smoke.

Run. Right. This was the demon responsible for the Islands of California, as Hicks had just reminded them. There's no way he could run far enough.

Tyrone was going to feel so guilty when he came back to himself...

The pre-alarm stopped ringing. Great. They'd gotten the fire outside under control. That just left the _teeny_ little problem of an Yggdrasil-influenced demon.

"No sudden movements now," Hicks whispered. "Maybe... maybe we can contain this... Leave, carefully, and _press the big alarm_ , I'll - I'll distract him..."

Tyrone got up from the windowsill. Wings, large and black as the void, unfurled from behind him as he stretched and he opened his mouth in a fang-filled yawn, his eyes still unfocused, burning gold.

He noticed Thomas. He moved.

Thomas didn't bother running. It wouldn't help anyway.

... he really should have called his parents more often.

In a flash of gold and black Tyrone had his arms tight around Thomas' chest and there was a demon literally breathing down his neck and oh stars he wished he didn't remember how Tyrone once bit through a metal spoon without noticing because hell those teeth were sharp and _he was too young too die there was so much he still wanted to do and Tyrone would feel so guilty about it and oh stars he was growling now -_

Wait.

That wasn't growling.

He'd heard Tyrone growl before, most recently when a stubborn popcorn shell got stuck between his teeth. This was nothing like that. It sounded almost like he was... purring?

There was something wet and tingly and _utterly disgusting_ leaving a trail from his neck up to his hair.

Had Tyrone just _licked_ him!?

That's it. No more banana milkshakes before bed. Every moment now a band of bicycle riding elephants could show up and Brad in a tutu would start to sing the Princess Mizar themesong.

"Okay," Thomas said eventually. Demon-related death seemed to be postponed for now. Tyrone was more focused on licking his hair than on disemboweling him, so... that was probably a good thing?

Unless he had decided to eat Thomas really really slowly. Could you lick someone to death?

(Thomas silently added that thought to the list of Things I Must Never Say Out Loud In The Presence Of Maria Or Be Teased Forever.)

Wait a minute. This wasn't some kind of weird courting ritual, right? Because no. Just _no_. That would actually be worse than being eaten alive and damn it, maybe he _should_ have read Twin Souls. 

"Tyrone? What, uh, what exactly are you doing?"

There was no response, but the arms around him tightened and yeah, this was weird. And disgusting. There was golden demon spit dripping from his hair.

"Amazing," Hicks breathed. "He doesn't seem to be violent.... for now at least. I hate to ask this, but since he appears to be focused on you - can you keep him occupied? Until this wears off?"

"Right," Thomas said. "Okay. I'll just... stand here." And be licked.

Damnit Tyrone!

* * *

 

"So, uh, I'm calling to tell you Tyrone and I can't make it to the poker night. Sorry."

"Aw man, really? But I already stocked up on those gummies he likes! Did something happen?"

"Yeah... you could say that."

"Something serious? Are you okay? And Tyrone?"

"Well... You remember that little shed outside the university building?"

"The one with the fanged chickens?"

"Yes, that's the one. Apparently some genius from cryptozoology had a little side business growing herbs in there. Well, I say 'herbs'..."

"Gotcha. Not the stuff you use in the kitchen."

"They'd been using magic crystals as a light and heat source, because there's no electricity in that shed, right? And they'd just left those running during summer break. Unattended... One of them combusted and set off a cascade and that wouldn't be such a problem, really, if not for the little fact that _Yggdrasil_ tends to spontaneously pop up in gardens with a high level of magic and it can grow like a freaking _weed_."

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes. And before you ask - yes, there was smoke, there was enough Yggdrasil in it to be noticable, and we all breathed it in, including Tyrone."

"... you're not calling from beyond the grave, right? Because that would be _spooky_. No offence dude. Please don't haunt me now."

"Eddy, I'm not dead!"

"... you sure?"

"Just - listen, Tyrone had the _weirdest_ reaction to the Yggdrasil. He didn't turn murderous, so stop worrying. He just licked my hair and scratched up Hicks's desk chair and then decided to take a nap on the windowsill. But he's still pretty out of it and I'm not leaving him here alone - besides, he hisses at Hicks whenever I try to leave the office so that's not an option anyway. So... can you let Maria and Lucy Ann know what happened? And that we won't be there tonight?"

"...sure. Wow, dude. Have you made pictures yet? You should totally make pictures."

"I've been a bit too busy to snap pictures. Anyway, there was one other thing I wanted to ask. Your parents have cats, right?"

"Yep. Six of them."

"That's great. Any advice on how to get a cat or, you know, a currently very catlike person down from the curtains? He's climbing them. And those claws leave holes in the fabric."

"Huh. I didn't know Hicks had curtains in his office."

"Yes Eddy, that's the important bit of what I just told you. Hicks's interior decorating skills. There's a demon climbing the drapes!"

"But it's Tyrone though. Maybe you can lure him down with gummies?"

"That... is actually not such a bad idea. I'll send Hicks out for snacks. Getting hungry anyway - thanks Eddy!"

"You're welcome. And don't forget those pictures dude!"

"Don't worry... I'm on it. That'll teach him for getting spit all over my hair... Wait, Tyrone, what are you - oh man, _not again_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by, yeesh, a whole list:  
> The Safe Summons list is of course inspired by this fic: http://callmegallifreya.tumblr.com/post/102393797700/sleeping-on-the-job.  
> Aeothnar the Tree Watcher is from http://avafalls.tumblr.com/post/125017622454/goodbye-forever-bro-bro. (Yep, I'm collecting demons from all your fics. Muahaha!)  
> The California incident mentioned is from http://archiveofourown.org/works/3910060  
> There are also some references to Growing Dipnip (http://archiveofourown.org/works/6034867).


	4. Summoning Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It never happened often. And it never happened on purpose. But sometimes Rainbow Basher would disappear from her parking spot for a while. She always came back though, so that was okay.  
> And if sometimes Thomas was taken along for the ride, well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was driving to work today and this popped up in my head. 
> 
> Warning for a bit of a mood whiplash!

There was a certain drawback to driving a car that could be summoned.

It was quite a shock, that first time it happened. He was driving home from the supermarket when a shiver went through Rainbow’s frame and the whole world seemed to blink. The rainy street was suddenly replaced by a tiled floor and glittering, blinding lights and noise.

The lights and noise were coming from Rainbow Basher, who had decided to appear in all her glory, but it still took Thomas a moment to realise what had happened.

The intricate circles drawn all around the car were a clue. There was a robed man standing outside them.

Thomas really should have expected something like this to happen. 

“Oh great and powerful - er…”

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” Thomas said, at the man’s open-mouthed stare. “Rainbow Basher usually has that effect on people. That’s enough sweetie, please tone down the music at least?”

He patted the dashboard and she relented. The deafening noise lowered to a more manageable level.

Right. It didn’t seem like he was in any danger, might as well take a look. This guy probably hadn’t summoned a demonic car on purpose. Let’s see what had caused this mix-up.

Thomas sighed, got out of the car, and walked over to the edge of the summoning circle. The man in the long robes backed away at his approach.

Looked like a circle for Summez the Cybernatic. The binding seemed decent, but that summoning array was one big mess. 

“I see what you did wrong,” Thomas said, and crouched down at the chalk lines. “These two symbols here? You’re not supposed to draw them so closely together. It looks like a car, that’s probably why we showed up instead of Summez. And you really should use a thinner piece of chalk, this whole array is too compact. There should be more room between the sigils, you need to ‘let them breathe’, you know?”

“Oh,” the man said. He licked his lips, seemingly nervous. “Well. Can I make a deal with you, then?”

“What? I’m not a demon, I’m a teacher.” This was getting surreal. Thomas gestured to Rainbow Basher, a vision of colour and upbeat techno music. “The car is the demon. And I don’t think she can make deals. Just be summoned. Which is  _ really inconvenient _ , I was grocery shopping! You’re not supposed to leave raw meat too long out of the fridge, you know.”

The man blinked at him. His expression was confused and uncertain.

“I want to make a deal,” he repeated. “My computer has been cursed. I need you to fix it.”

Okay. Maybe he couldn’t blame the guy for not immediately believing him. If their roles were reversed Thomas wouldn’t believe him either. Demon summoning was a bit like casting a net for a fish, after all. You might not get the shark you wanted, but you wouldn’t expect to catch a cow, right?

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said. “You have the wrong person.”

He scuffed the edge of the binding circle, just in case it would give Rainbow trouble, and added: “You might want to rethink summoning Summez the Cybernatic, by the way. He’s been overcharging lately. If it’s a tech-related issue you have, try Pindohr the Malevolent. Or you could try Alcor, of course, but he’s not that computer savvy to be honest.”

The man had jumped backwards when Thomas wiped away the binding. He was now standing with his back pressed against the wall, his face white and uncomprehending.

Poor guy. He clearly wasn’t cut out for demon summoning. 

“Or you could call a technician,” Thomas said. “Instead of a demon. Maybe you should leave the summonings to the professionals, less risky that way. Okay?”

The man stared at him for a long moment. Then he slowly nodded.

“Okay,” Thomas said. Time to go. His lettuce was probably wilting already. “Well. Goodbye.”

He got back into the driver’s seat and buckled up his seatbelt. “Rainbow, sweetie? Can you bring us home or do I need to call Tyrone for this?”

She honked once in answer and another tingling ripple went through them both. They left the room the same way they had entered it, in a shower of day-glo sparkles and lights.

All in all it could have been worse. It had been weird to be summoned like that, but at least it had been quickly resolved. And it had been a simple mistake, really. That man was lucky he’d ended up with Rainbow Basher instead of an actual demon. This was probably just a one-time thing.

* * *

It wasn’t a one-time thing.

* * *

He pulled his car into the parking lot and ended up in some kind of abandoned factory hall.

Well. Not entirely abandoned. At least twenty people in long flowing robes were standing around the circle Rainbow Basher had popped into.

“Not again,” Thomas groaned. He was starting to understand why demons were so easily irritated and quick to anger...

He had plans damn it! He was already late for the party, he didn’t have the _ time _ to be pulled into a damn summoning circle by his car!

He was ready to ignore the chanting people in robes and just tell Rainbow to leave… but then he heard it.

Sobbing.

There was a boy tied down, just outside the binding circle. He was bleeding.

Rainbow’s engine usually purred. Now she was growling, and the flashing lights that accompanied her dramatic entrance were mostly a deep, vicious red.

The chanting cut off.

“What is this?” the head cultist - or at least the one with the fanciest robes - asked. “This isn’t what we ordered! Begone, demon, you are nothing before our Master!”

A chill crawled down Thomas’ back. Without a second thought he got out of the car and walked towards the crying kid. The boy tried to crawl away from him, sobbing harder.

The head cultist moved between him and the boy. She lowered her hood and glared at him. “That sacrifice is not yours. Brethren! Call out again for our Master, so He can devour this insignificant worm!”

Thomas glanced at the sigils surrounding him and Rainbow Basher. He didn’t know all summoning circles on sight, but he was pretty sure that symbol wasn’t supposed to look like a box with wheels. Demons usually picked something a bit more elegant.

Damn it. That looked like a pretty strong binding too. Odds were that Rainbow Basher was really stuck for once.

“Who is this Master of yours?” he asked, to stall for time. Could he just break this circle? It wasn’t drawn with chalk, but carved in the concrete floor. He couldn’t just wipe out a few sigils and disrupt it like that.

“Our Master is Heffeltafl the Unguiferous!” the head cultist said. “And He will rain death and pain upon you, lousy pretender!”

“Oh,” Thomas said. “That guy.” 

Tyrone had mentioned how cocky Heffeltafl had gotten lately. That made sense, if he was getting regular power boosts through human sacrifices.

The engine roared. He probably should get back inside Rainbow, she wouldn’t let any harm come to him, right? And this situation could get very messy... 

He did have a summoning circle drawn on his truck bed. And a business card in his wallet. Maybe this was a job for Tyrone. He really didn’t want to see his friend go all murderous and demonic though. Even if these people deserved it.

But as he heard the kid sob and beg and bleed, Thomas realised… what he wanted didn’t matter. Not right now.

“How dare you mock -” the head cultist started, looking ready to explode, but one of the others had noticed a peculiarity of Rainbow Basher.

“Hira, stop!” they called out. “That truck has Alcor’s symbol on it!”

The head cultist fell silent abruptly. She stared at him.

Thomas met her eyes. It was a miracle his voice didn’t shake. “You want to hand over the boy to me, now.”

She wordlessly moved aside, and flinched when he stepped over the binding circles to reach the boy.

He couldn’t be more than eleven. His Monstermon shirt was stained and sticky with the blood leaking from the gashes in his arms. He was awake and at least somewhat aware, because he cried out in fear as Thomas carefully picked him up.

Thomas had never been this angry in his  _ life _ .

He carried the boy back to Rainbow, who was moving restlessly inside the boundary of the circle. She stopped pacing long enough to let him put the wounded kid on the backseat. 

Such a strange thing, rage. Get enough of it and it turned into a kind of calm. It was clear what he had to do.

His hands were red, red, red with the boy’s blood.

The head cultist found her voice again. The posturing and threats were completely gone. 

“Are- are you Alcor the Dreambender?”

“Nope,” Thomas said, and let his bloody hand drip all over the truck bed. “But I’m sure he’s just dying to meet you.”

* * *

It never happened often. And it never happened on purpose. But sometimes Rainbow Basher would disappear from her parking spot for a while. She always came back though, so that was okay.

And if sometimes Thomas was taken along for the ride, well... Usually it was easy enough to sort out what error they’d made that had called Rainbow Basher instead of the demon they meant to summon. He was a teacher after all. 

It was annoying but nothing more.

The few times it had been  _ more _ , though… those times when red dominated the rainbow colours and the air was thick with shrieks and pain and oily vapour as he huddled on the backseat with a shaking body in his arms…

He could count those on one hand. They never happened often. 

But he never did forget them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of a demon OC from fluffythehedgehog12 (http://fluffythehedgehog12.tumblr.com/post/142438532999/meet-pindohr-my-demon-oc-inspired-by-a-post-on). 
> 
> The Rainbow Basher is of course from Phenyx's Nest (http://archiveofourown.org/works/2709113/chapters/15886465).
> 
> And I would love more demons! Like Disney-Muse mentioned on Tumblr, I'm sort of making a safe summons list? For reference purposes when writing fics. So if you'd like to share your demon OC's or, you know, just a demonic sounding name and title and maybe something they specialize in? That would be great!


	5. A Day In The Life Of Tyrone Evergreen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper Pines, demon extraordinaire, goes about his day. It's a busy one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set somewhere in the first summer/autumn after graduation.

**7:30 am**

Dipper usually started his day with a visit to Thomas, who always made sure there was enough breakfast for both of them.

“You need me in the lab today?” Dipper asked, sipping his coffee. He’d been helping the demonology department a lot lately. Well compensated, of course. It was nice to work with professionals.

Thomas paused in buttering his toast.

“Not really,” he said. “We still have some cleaning up to do after last night’s summoning, and then I’ve got to write a report about it. That’ll probably take all day.”

“Sounds boring.”

“It is. That’s why Hicks has me doing it. By the way, could you go out for groceries today?”

Dipper shrugged. “I _could._ ”

“Great. I’ll make a list of what we need. Stay inside budget, get everything from the list, and - let’s see - you can buy whatever you want with what’s left of the money. Sounds fair?”

A challenge! The more he managed to haggle, the more there would be left to spend on snacks for his personal stash. That could be fun. “Sure. It’s a deal!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Thomas took his hand. The tingle of a sealed deal brushed against Dipper’s skin. “Do you want some toast?”

* * *

 

**9:07 am**

He floated invisibly at the back of the classroom. The teacher in front was explaining how to solve basic cartesian equations.

Mizar was busy taking notes, oblivious of the demon that kept an eye on her. She seemed less stressed than yesterday. That argument she’d had with her best friend must have been patched up then.

A few more years and he would tell her. Who she was, who he was - everything.

For now he settled for watching her as she listened to the teacher and doodled little pigs in the margins of her notebook.

* * *

 

**10:32 am**

The first summons of the day came as a slight, almost hesitant tug. He took a moment to stretch his senses and smiled. No need to don the ‘business suit’, as Thomas called his more demonic form.

“Heya Eddy,” Dipper said, popping into the circle made by his business card. There was a weak binding circle surrounding it. “Good morning. You look snappy today!”

“Thanks dude,” Eduardo said. He awkwardly scratched at the collar of his dress shirt. “Isn’t this a bit too much?”

He gestured at his clothes. He was wearing pressed slacks and gleaming black shoes and a tie. It was formal and dressy and it didn’t suit him at all.

“Maybe lose the tie,” Dipper advised. Had he been summoned for clothing advice? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Eduardo erased one of the chalk lines to break the weak binding circle.

“Are you sure?” he said. “I have a job interview today, I need to look my best. I kinda need your help dude. This is going to be a disaster.”

“A job interview?” Dipper said. He sat down cross-legged in the air and gave Eduardo a thumbs up. “Congratulations! What kind of job?”

“At the best place ever dude! You know Stormward Games?”

“Of course! They make World of Battlecraft, right?”

“Yep. Well, they want to make a new expansion that’ll be all about demons and they’re looking for a consultant. It’s a temporary job, of course - just until the game is finished - but they’d need me for a year at least. You know, helping out with the lore, checking for circles and sigils that the creative guys accidentally got **_too_** correct - that kind of stuff! And I’d get to give feedback on the monster designs and stuff, to make it as realistic as possible!”

The enthusiastic arm-waving that accompanied his words managed to miss his desklamp by a hair.

“That sounds like a great job for you, Eddy,” Dipper said.

“It is. But I’m never going to get it.” His shoulders drooped. “I’m going to mess it up again, like I mess up all my job interviews.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself! You did fine last time, right? At that occult webshop thing?”

“Dunno. They still picked someone else.” Eduardo sighed. “I really want to work at Stormward Games, dude. That’s like, the job of my dreams.”

“Well… I could get you that job,” Dipper said. “But is that really something you want me to do?”

Deals with his friends were usually made with candy or other small things. For something like this? Snacks weren’t going to cut it.

Eduardo slumped down in the chair. “Yes. Maybe? It’s just… I’m never going to get it otherwise. I’ll screw things up. I always do.”

“You don’t know that,” Dipper said. “You might be exactly what they’re looking for! Don’t sell yourself short. If we do this.... You’ll never know if it’s because you earned it on your own merits or if it’s just the deal we made.”

His instincts were screaming at him, a little voice in the back of his head saying he shouldn’t talk his summoner out of making a deal, he had to take everything he could grab. Some days that little voice was easier to ignore than others. Dipper pushed it away.

“I think your odds are pretty good,” he added. “You have the degree they’re looking for, you know everything there is to know about World of Battlecraft, and you really love this game! Show them that and they would be crazy not to pick you.”

“You really think so?”

“Trust me.”

Eduardo rubbed his face. “I suppose it would be cheating… asking you for help.”

“Kind of, yeah. Not that I won’t do it, if you ask,” Dipper said. “But it won’t be cheap. Sorry. And that’s just a waste because I _know_ you can do this on your own.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really _really_ sure?”

“ _Yes_ , Eddy.”

Eduardo took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do this. And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll just… try again. Yeah! Thanks dude. This was a good talk.”

“No problem,” Dipper said. “Hey, if you want you can practise your interview with me? Maybe you’ll feel more confident then.”

“That would be awesome. You’ve got an hour to spare?”

“For a friend? Of course! Okay, first question: what are your strenghts, Mr Noguerra?”

* * *

 

**12:33 am**

He’d promised to go grocery shopping, so he did.

Thomas had been getting sneakier in his deals. He’d really put some thought into the appropriate shopping budget, because while Dipper scanned the list he realised there wouldn’t be much left for extras.

Of course there were plenty of snacks on the shopping list and he was going to get the lion’s share of those, but it was the principle of the thing.

He was debating between two kinds of pickle-flavoured potato chips - one was cheaper, so he’d have more money left as his reward for the deal, but the other was tastier and Thomas would most likely share it with him anyway - when he heard glass break.

He turned around and a woman stood in the shopping aisle, a puddle of tomato sauce around her feet. There were some remains of the glass jar spread over the floor. She was staring at him, wide-eyed.

Had he forgotten to look human? Dipper checked, but nope, no wings, no fangs. Just ordinary Tyrone Evergreen.

“You are Him,” the woman said, her voice rough. One hand went up to point - the other went to her throat and clasped around the necklace she was wearing. “... my Lord.”

Dipper nearly groaned. Cultist. One of his, clearly. Circle of the Dreamers' Star? Possibly. Or maybe one of the crazier ones.

“Are you here to test my faith, my Lord?” she whispered, tomato sauce soaking into her sensible flat shoes.

“I’m just shopping,” Dipper said. Something inside of him preened at the utter devotion on her face - and the sliver of fear underneath it. “Please don’t make a scene? I still need to pay for all this and this is the cheapest grocery store I know.”

The woman seemed confused for a moment. Then her face brightened.

“This _is_ a test,” she said, suddenly full of conviction. “A test of humility and generosity. I will not be found wanting - my Lord, allow me to gift you these, uh -” she glanced at his cart, “- bags of chips, and those eggs, and a cauliflower? And everything else in there.”

He _should_ correct her. That would be the honest thing to do.

“Really?” he said instead. “Great! I mean - **yóu͜r̨ g̕en̛er̸o͜u̸s sa̕cri͠fice ́w͜i̷l͝l̴ ̷not be ̢f̴orgo͝ttęn**. And thanks. Just give me a minute, I need to add a few other things...”

* * *

 

**02:10 pm**

He’d just dropped off the groceries at Thomas’ apartment, putting away what had to go into the fridge or freezer, when the summons came.

It was a pushy one, if the sharp tugs were anything to go by. He let his human guise melt away and followed the call.

Oh man, not this guy again!

“W̷ͮHA̽T̡ ͨ͐͌͋ͤͧ̌D̾̇̇̎͏Oͥͪ̇̏̌̓͗ ̐Y̛̊̃̿̂O̍U͠ ̷W͡Ǎ̋̌̌͑̔̚N͑̐̒͒͛͒ͤTͮ̎ͮͮ,ͩ̊̓͗ ̛VĬN̴̐͊̎ͫ̓ͩ̚Ć́Eͪ̾ͮ̑ͯ̀N̵͛T̢̈͐?” he said, in full demon mode.

“Oh great and powerful Alcor -”

“Y̋ͮͮ̆ͦ͑̕E̸ͫA͝Ḣ̚,ͭ͛̒͂ͤ ͥ̇Ŷ̨̅E̓͐̚ĀH̓͛͂̐,̂ͭ̂ͮ͂ ̓̑͏İ̿̑͋ͮ K͗̑̏͢N͊O͐͐̆W͞.̃̒͑̋̔ͨ̒͟ ̐̍̊ͨͦ̿Iͯ̂͛̎͊̇’M̃ͩ͌̽ͥ̈́͂͞ F̃̓̀̋R̴̈ͫ͋E͗̓͌̂͌̓̕A̶͌̇̈͛Kͦ͟I̐ͧ͊̅͑ͤ̄N̑Gͫ̐ͩͥ̈́ ̔̀͑͌̒̃ͤÀ̛ͬ̎́̍ͫM̌ͫͫA̢ͩ̄͐Z̶Ȉ͂ͮ̌̿N̓͛̇̈͛̒͝G͘.” Dipper fought the urge to roll his eyes. “J̶U͝S̛T TELL ̢M̕E̷ ̛W͡HA̡T ͟YOU ̀W͝A̡NT S̶O̢ ͟I̢ ̵C̛AN ͟RE̕F͝U͏S̛E I҉T̕ ͘ALRE͡ÀD͠Y̸ ̢AN̕D ͜WE͏ CA͜N BO̷T͠H̕ ͞G̶O ͏ON W̕ITH ͏O͏UR ̡L͡I̛VES̨.”

Vincent shot him a hopeful smile. “As you wish, oh great Dreambender. Okay, you’re going to like this idea: _left-handed socks_. It’s going to be the next big thing! I just need a small starting fund…”

“Iͬͨ͆ͩ̿T̋’́S̷̃͋ ̨͋̓N͐ͥ̏ͫȎ̧̌́T́̉̐̐ G̉̂̅͐́̔̾ȌÍ̴̔̾͗ͨṄ̃Ǵ ͌̍̆T̏ͥ̎̇̉̍Ơ̿ ̷H̉͌A͋̚P͋ͯ͒Pͥͪ̈́͑͑͌́Ē̈̀̈́N͝,̌̾͑ ͨ͆ͧV́͊͂͠ḮN͠C̵ͤͯE̛ͦ̇͂̓N̓͑͐̐T̔ͮͩͬ̀,” Dipper said. Sheesh, this guy! He called himself an inventor but he only invented ways to make himself poorer.

It wasn’t often he came across a McGucket reincarnation. This one had the same insatiable drive for inventing, but unfortunately none of the actual _talent_.

The first few times Dipper had accepted his deals, just for fun and anyway, the guy only wanted a starting fund. Money was the issue, that’s why he usually paid in memories, and occasionally gave up his sense of smell or hearing for a set amount of time.

He _always_ only wanted a starting fund, too proud of his own “genius” to ask for more demonic assistance - though Dipper wasn’t sure if even his great reality-altering powers could be enough to make Vincent’s ideas successful.

Eventually Dipper had stopped accepting these deals. It was getting too ridiculous - almost made you feel sorry for the guy. That had been somewhere around bad idea number eight, the inflatable lab coat.

Whatever he tried, Vincent stayed bright-eyed and hopeful and full of _entirely_ misplaced confidence as he explained his latest brainfart.

“No, no, listen, I’m really on to something this time -”

“NO̵ ̧Y̶̢͏OŲ͘͝’̕Ŗ̛̛E͢ ̛͟N͢Ó͞T̛͟͡,” Dipper cut him off. “T̶AK͘E͞ IT͡ FRO̡M ME. ͢I͡’M̶ ҉OMN̢I̕S͟CIE͏N̕T͢.”

“But this is my greatest idea yet! I would stake my soul on this one, that’s how sure I am!”

The words echoed in the sudden silence.

“W̾E͆̈ͫ̿L̶̑͆̄ͦ̇L̉̽̍ͯͮ͆̈,̐ͭ̆ͥ ̀ͮͤͦ̚͞I̓ͬ̍̂F̂ͦ̀̋ͬ́̚ ̨͊ͭ̌Y̴̓ͯO͗̋̏̀͟U’̀́ͬ͟R̾͞Ęͩ̈ ̷̏̓ͦͣ̒ͥ̚ **T̛͋͂̿ͬ̿H̶̒̀ͬA̓͋͆̓ͬT̎͆** ͬ͢ ͝CE̎ͬ̋́̒̈̽R̓ͪ͒ͨ̆͢T̍̄̒̅ͫAͦͮͭ̄͛I͛ͩ̐ͨͪNͤ̋̒͌͊ ̍͑̉̌̉̽O͞F̑̑̆ͧ͛͗ Yͮ̈́O̾̂̇̍͛̍ͧ͠U͋̔RS̽̾E̐̑ͨ̄̓̚L̨ͥ̀F̴͑͗ …” Dipper said, blue sparks dancing across his fingers. “T̨H̡҉E҉̷R̡̢̡E̶’͜͠S ̀͝ **ÓN̕͞L̢͠Y Ò̢̕NE̷͘ ͢͠** AN̷Ş͜͟W̴ÉR̷ ̨̛T͟O͢ ̵̨͜A̶N ̴̢O̷FF҉E͏R̛͜ ͟ĹI҉Ķ̸E͠͏ THÀ̢͝T,̢ B̢̕Ư͡D̶͠D͜Y͜͝!”

“Yes?” Vincent said, perking up.

“ **Ņ̍̆͘Ŏ̵̅!͐̉͊͢ ͦͣ̓ͮ̀̚** A̍ͧͨ̑̿͆̆̆̕R̴͛Ȇ͑̅̉̈́͂ͬ̽̓͜͞ ̨̃ͭ̾́Ỳ̈́̏̊̊ͫỎ̎̍̂̀ͨ̓̀͢͝U͗̄ͫ̃̏̇̚͡ ̷ͯ̇ͪČ̔̇̂̽ͮ͌́R̛̀̚͜͡Ã̾̓͌̂ͪ̓̅͡Z̡̔ͬ̉͘Y _ͯ͂̒͠_?” Dipper said. “Y͠OU ARE OFFERING ͞ **Y͋͊̆͋ͪ͜Õ̢͐ͯU̶͗ͧ͟͡R̋̿͋̓̏̋̎͟ ̐͆̍ͪͦ͑ͯ͛ͪ̀S̊͛̀ͭͨͭͨ҉̕O̊̐̀ͣͧ̂̇ͪ͝͡U̔̓̐ͦͧ̄͒͏̵L̅͂̔͏̶**  ̴I͢N̷ EX̀CH͠A͝N̷G͞E ͜F͝O͡R͞ WHA̡T̵? M̵O͝NÉY TO ́S̸TART A _SO͝C̛K̛ ͟BUSI̧NÈSS̢_!̕ ͜THĘRE͠ ̧IS ŅO SU҉CH̡ T̶H҉IN̛G̛ A͞S L͠EFT-HA̸NDE̸D SO̵C̡K͞S! NO̷ ̷ON̸E _N̴EȨDS͜_ ̷LE͞FT͠-̢H̛A̷N̡D͜E͟D ͝SO̵CK̨S!”

“Aw, come on,” Vincent said. “Make this deal with me! I only need ten thousand this time, my soul’s worth at least ten thousand, right?”

It was painful to say no. It really was.

Dipper felt a headache coming up. Fine! He wanted a deal? He would get a deal!

“Į̛͡ HAV͟͏̴E ̶TH͝R̵E҉E͏̸ ̴͜͢C̨OND̶̨͢I͏̸T̴I̵̸ON͟͜͟S̕,” he said. “ **O͏N͞E** ҉: ̴YOU W͡IL͏L̨ ̢L̶E̷A̸RN͜ ́T̕O͞ ͏PLAY THE҉ BAN͡JO.̧ **TWO** : YOU W̶IL҉L̀ N̕ÓT̡ ͠S͜U͢M̡M͡O͡N ̶ME͞ OR ̡ÁNY̸ OŢHER ͏DEM͘ON̵ A͞GA̵IN̵ U̴N͢TIL̀ Y͟O̢U̡ ̨A̧RE ́A͝ M̷A͏S̕TE̛R O̷F ́TH͜E B͟ANJ̛O̶. ́ **T̀H̛R҉EE͏** :̶ YOU̴ WI̧LL̷ G̕IV̛E͏ ͏ME͏ ͟TH͢AT S҉AN͏DWI̴CH ͡T͠HEŖE. ̡IN̕ ͘RET͜URN҉ I’L͠L̛ **_LEN͞D͠_** ͠YOU̸ ͡TH̡È ̕CA̡SH ͘Y̴O̸U ̴NE̡ED. ̶NE̶X̛T̛ ͘TI͘ME YO͡U͞ ̷SU̢MMO̷N M͘E̵ ͝YOU’̡D ̷B̀ETTER BE RE̢ADY̨ ̶TO͞ GI͝V͞E ͘IT͞ ̀BA͞CK.”

“Interest-free?”

“S͢U̶R̸͠É̢.”

“That sounds like an amazing deal! I knew you’d believe in me, oh great Dreambender!” Vincent grabbed his hand and shook it energetically. “Why the banjo, though?”

"Y̸O͟U̧ ̡͠͏W̡O҉U̶҉L̶͜D͟ ̨̨N̡O̧͟͞T͜͝ ͏C͠O̕͟Ḿ͝P̧̧͞R̀E̡H҉͏̶E͟Ń̕D͞ ͜͢Ḿ̶͞Y ̧̡̀ŖEAS̶O̵̕͡N͟S̵̨͢."

Because he needed a way to keep Vincent occupied and out of his hair for a while, the longer the better. Because maybe, maybe this wannabe-inventor would discover a secret love for the banjo and he’d stop trying to be something he clearly wasn’t.

It wasn’t quite a fair deal but it was worth it to get this idiot to stop bothering him for a while. And that sandwich looked tasty.

He sealed the deal with fire and shot Vincent a dark, threatening smile. “B̨̨Y ̨͟T̸͠HE̵ ̧̡W̴A̛Ý,͘͜ V͢͝͡I̵̕͠N͝C̸E͘N̨T͟?”

“Er… yes?”

“N͝E̵͝X̢T͟ ̧T́I͘͢M͘E̡ Y̕͡O̷̢̡U͞ O̴̕FF̧͡ER͘ ̸͡Y͟O͘͏UR͏ Ş̡҉O͡U̷͘L͘͢? **I͎̞̘̔̾̆͑͊͋́ ̢͕̪̩͒̿̊̈́ͨ̇W̥Ò͚̳̤̥͙͓Ǹ͓͚͍̮̿͂͊͛̌ͨ’ͥ̏̓ͩ̾͒҉T͍̞͚̖̫̆́ͫ̒̇ͯ ̩̞͇͕̣D͊̉ͯ̌ͨ̚̚E̸̹̲̪͎̼̿͊ͣ̾͆͑C͓̊̊L̥̫̩̪̬͋ͥ̔ͅI̯̮̺͓͍̭̿͂ͬ̌͛͗ͣN̳̪̪̱̜͈ͩͨͭ͗ͅĘ̹̭̼̟͛̏̊̾͐**.”

A tense silence.

“Duly noted,” Vincent said.

* * *

 

**02:51 pm**

Grass and wool and quiet snores.

Dipper was stretched out in the meadow in the Mindscape, colours dancing in the sky, surrounded by the warmth and softness of the Flock.

It was nice to take a break sometimes.

* * *

 

**04:03 pm**

“Hi Tyrone,” Brad said, already scuffing the binding circle with his foot as soon as Dipper popped into the circle. He held up two video game controllers. “Are you busy?”

“Nope,” Dipper said. He took the offered controller and dropped down on the large and comfy couch. “Which one are we playing today?”

“We were almost at the Hive of the Insectimator Queen last time, so let’s play that one?”

“Sure!”

They settled in on the couch. Soon the sound of gunfire and helicopter blades blasted from the huge television screen.

“Eddy summoned me today,” Dipper said. “He had a job interview with Stormward Games.”

“An interview? When?”

“This afternoon.”

“Wow. Good for him, it must be awesome to work there.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Dipper smiled. “He’ll do fine.”

“I hope he gets the job.”

“Me too.” There was a lull in the conversation as they found a new treasure map and more ammo. “You need another health pack?”

“I’m good.”

“So how is the job hunting going?”

Brad shrugged. “Haven’t started yet.”

“Really?”

“Jep. I’ll probably intern at dad’s company, so I can start whenever. A few years of being an office monkey and then we’ll see, right?”

Dipper frowned. “You’re not going to look for something, you know, more demonologist-y?”

Brad snorted. “Definitely not. My summoning days are over.”

“Are you serious? You’re never going to summon anything?”

“I'm dead serious, dude.” Brad smiled and elbowed him playfully. “Of course I’ll make an exception for _you_ , don’t worry.”

“Glad to hear it. Well… In that case…” Dipper paused the game. He put his controller down and turned to Brad. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

“For some reason it isn’t reassuring _at all_ when you say that.”

Dipper rolled his eyes and focused. He put his hands against Brad’s cheeks and carefully, softly pressed his lips against Brad’s forehead. Focus, release a tiny sliver of power -

"I'm, uh, I'm flattered, but... also really _really_ weirded out. No offence."

There. His mark shone brightly on Brad’s skin. Dipper sat back, satisfied, and released his friend’s head.

Brad was staring at him with the most peculiar expression. His colours were muddled, something not quite scared but very, very worried.

“Look,” he eventually said, very slowly. “I, er… I like Twin Souls. I’ll admit it. But that doesn’t mean - I mean - listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but I like _girls_.”

Dipper frowned. “I know that. Why - oh.” Realisation struck. “Oh god, you thought - it’s not like that at all!”

“It isn’t?” Brad said, relief dripping from his voice.

“Of course not! The thought alone - _blergh_. No offence,” he added quickly.

“Then what was that kiss all about?”

“I wasn’t kissing you! Sheesh. Talk about a misunderstanding.” Well, this was embarrassing. Dipper shrugged. “I gave you my mark.”

“Oh.”

A moment of silence.

Brad blinked. “Dude. Did you just _claim_ me!?”

“It’s for protection! You’re so worried about demons - no one is going to bother you now.”

“That’s nice of you, but… you _claimed_ me.” He rubbed his forehead, as if he could feel the tingle of the mark. “Don’t you need a deal to do something like that?”

“Not always. Besides, it’s not like I own you now or anything. That’s basically just a mystical ‘hands off’ sign I painted on your head.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that. Grateful and alarmed? Yeah. I’m all _gralarmed_ about this, Tyrone.”

“You make it sound so much worser than it is.” Dipper said. “You read too much Twin Souls, Brad.”

“ _Gralarmed_ , Tyrone,” Brad repeated, with emphasis.

Dipper huffed. “None of the other people I’ve marked ever made this much of a fuss about it.”

Brad took the controller again. “Whatever. Are we playing this game?”

Dipper followed suit and soon they were shooting at alien bugs again, on their way to battle the Insectimator Hive Queen.

“Tyrone?” Brad’s voice was quiet. He didn’t look away from the screen, where they kept fighting the horde.

“Yeah?”

“... thank you.”

* * *

 

**06:15 pm**

Maria hadn’t bothered with a binding circle, not even a token weak one.

“Tyrone, you’ve got to see this,” she greeted him, dragging him away from his summoning business card and towards her computer. “This is the funniest video ever!”

It was pretty funny. Someone had attached voice changing spell strips to their pets.

“ **Ŵ̧̖͇͎̠̰̝̉ͧ͑̚O̼͈͖̟͇̬͉͎̊̂͂͆̄̈́Ŏ̵̙̼̖ͦ̒̏̿͆̄̆F̅** ͓͕ͫͦ̌ͨ̈́̆͡,” barked the tiny little chihuahua.

One of the people in the dog park actually screamed and ran away, to great hilarity of the person who was filming it all.

“Oh, by the way, can you give me a ride to Thomas?” Maria said. “I’ll trade you a side of eggrolls for it.”

* * *

 

**07:12 pm**

“Pass the hot sauce please.”

“Here you go.”

Thomas’ apartment wasn’t the biggest one, but the dining table was large enough for the five of them, busily munching on their chinese take-out.

“Looking a bit different, dude,” Eduardo said, staring at the mark on Brad’s head. His eyes had that particular glint that Dipper recognised as active Sight.

“Thanks for noticing,” Brad said. “I did something with my hair.”

“Er, okay.”

“How did your interview go?”

“You had an interview? Why didn’t I know this? Congratulations Eddy!” Maria took the last dumpling and sighed. “I never get an interview.”

“I think it went well, but I haven’t gotten any feedback yet.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” Thomas smiled.

Maria nodded, then seemed to think of something. “Oh! By the way, Tyrone, can I get an autograph?”

The conversations halted.

“Sorry, what?” Dipper said.

Maria smiled innocently. “An autograph! Not from Tyrone Evergreen of course. But if you could write something like ‘Much love, Alcor the Dreambender’ and make it look fancy? That would be awesome.”

“Er… I suppose I can do that…”

“Okay, spill,” Thomas said. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing,” Maria said. “Nothing bad at least. It’s just an autograph.”

There were a few alarm bells ringing in the back of Dipper's head. “Okay…”

“Actually, can you give me more than one? Let’s say… Ten, to start with?”

Dipper paused eating. “Why do you need so many autographs?”

She looked away shiftily. “Reasons.”

“ _Maria_.”

“Fine! I’m thinking of selling them,” she said. “This could be a big business, dude! You know all those Twin Souls fans, they would love a real autograph of their hero.”

Nope. Nope nope _nope_. “Sorry, no deal. You want a little side business selling my autographs, you’d better be prepared to give me something in return. And it’ll have to be something _big_ , because I really don’t like this idea.”

She sighed. “Aw, okay. It was just a wild thought. Could make us some quick money... I’d offer an even split, if you change your mind.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Maybe Brad would like one?” she said. "You'd give him one if he asked, right?"

“Are you going to steal it from him and copy it?”

“... no. I would never.”

“Damn right you wouldn’t,” Brad said, and grimaced when everyone looked at him. “I don’t want an autograph. But if I did, I wouldn’t let anyone _steal_ it! Besides, Maria - stop trying to make money off Twinners. There’s so much merchandising already... There are at least _ten_ companies selling fake autographs and fake hair and fake underwear, no one is going to believe yours are the real thing.”

“Wait, what?” Dipper's thoughts screeched to a halt. Had he heard that right? “Fake… _underwear_?”

Brad nodded sympathetically. “There are some places on the web where demons fear to tread, dude.”

“At least you hope it’s fake,” Maria teased. “Who knows, really?”

Dipper groaned. “This is so unfair. Why is it always me? They don’t write trashy romance novels about the Organ Duck.”

“Oh stars.” Thomas stared at the wall, eyes wide and unblinking and horrified. “All those orifices.”

“And there goes my appetite.”

Dipper stole Brad’s plate before he changed his mind. “Can’t let this go to waste after all, if you’re not hungry anymore.”

“Go ahead.”

“It’s probably because you can look so humanlike,” Thomas mused. “And you’re nicer than other demons. Usually.”

“If you want to dissuade naughty fangirls, you could add some more eyes and limbs to your appearance,” Maria suggested. “Maybe some rows of random teeth.”

"Stay away from the tentacles though," Eduardo said. "Trust me. Those won't help."

“Or you could answer every summons in the shape of a cartoonish twinkling star,” Brad said. “It’s hard to romanticize a kid’s toy.”

“Add all those ideas together!” Thomas laughed. “Can you imagine? A star with rows of teeth and six arms and a few eyes, let's say four or so. Maybe switch to red though. That’s scarier than yellow.”

Dipper was silent for a moment. Strange, how memories sometimes popped up. Things he had tried to forget.

He tried to find his voice again.

“First of all, I’m not a kid’s toy. And I’m not yellow, I’m _golden_. Big difference.”

“Only in price.”

“Now you mention prices, how much do I owe you?” Maria asked Eduardo, who had brought the take-out here.

“Let me check the bill… Oh man, I forgot to order dessert.”

“No problem,” Dipper said. “Dessert is on me tonight.”

He snapped his fingers and their empty plates cleared, making room for the most recent additions to his candy stash. Mostly chocolate.

Eduardo cheered.

“Nice!” Maria said. “Where did you get all of this?”

“From a deal I made with Thomas, of course!”

Thomas stared. “But… I’m sure I didn’t accidentally add an extra zero to the budget I gave you. There can’t have been enough left. Not for this amount.”

Dipper shot him a grin. “You know what they say. A demon _always_ finds a loophole.”

* * *

 

**23:58 pm**

Another summoning circle, another candle-lit room.

The Dreambender made his dramatic entrance and let the smoke dissipate.

“I need you,” Adams said, standing stone-faced just outside the chalk lines.

Dipper paused. “It’s those kind of comments that make all those weird theories about us pop up, Adams.”

“What? Oh, shut up,” she said. “I summoned you for business reasons. I need a sidekick.”

“Right. And that’s why you call me in the middle of the night. Wait - _sidekick_?”

“Yes, for crowd control,” Adams said. “I’ve got an infestation of plague sprites. I’ve dispatched eight already but I’ve spotted at least six more, that’s why I think there’s a nest somewhere. It takes too much time to destroy them one by one, so I need you to prevent them from escaping while we collect them all. Then I’ll get rid of them all at once.”

Sprites were usually just an annoyance, too low-level to even count as real demons. Plague sprites in particular fed on misery and spread around sickness, hence the name.

“Before I shake on anything: where exactly are we?” He was not letting himself get tricked into attending Twincon again.

She rolled her eyes. “Saint Margaries Nursing Home. Are you afraid of old people?”

“A nursing home?”

“Yes. There have been some deaths already. My guess? Someone tried to hurry up their inheritance by setting a plague sprite on their relative. And it multiplied, because of course a building full of old people is the perfect breeding spot for these things.”

“No kidding.” The death of one of their victims released a rush of energy that would make them multiply like crazy. Infestation was the right word for it, alright.

“Anyway, that’s for the police to figure out,” Adams said. “I’m only here for the sprites themselves. Are you in or not?”

“What do I get in return?”

“Half of the regular offer,” Adams said. “And that’s very generous of me, because let’s be honest, I’ll probably do all the work. You just follow me with some kind of mystical jar to hold the captured sprites and keep me from getting overrun when we get to their nest.”

Half of the contents of her ‘demon deal’ freezer. Hmm…

“Is that freezer fully stocked?”

“Of course.”

“Strawberry ice cream?”

“Yes, among other kinds.”

He felt like having strawberry tonight.

“One condition,” he said. “I get to pick which half of the freezer.”

“I hadn’t expected anything else. Deal?”

It had been a busy day. And it promised to be a busy night, full of annoying little sprites buzzing around his head and terrified nursing staff and a rather confused old man who apparently decided pants were for those under the age of ninety and who kept getting in the way of their hunt.

Dipper had to smile.

This had been a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-outs to the Flock (ThisCat: http://ii-thiscat-ii.tumblr.com/post/130276678181/list-of-sheep-in-the-flock), to the Circle of the Dreamers' Star (TerrifyingTyrannosaurusTurtle, ThisCat & Feneris (Who was first? Who knows anymore?): http://archiveofourown.org/works/6533737).
> 
> Also, whoever posted that ask on the TAU blog about human!Organ Duck, here's an honorable mention! (http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/146939013756/art-prompt-humanoid-organ-duck-i-i-dont)


	6. Family Recipe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Theo'd ask his son.  
> "A baker Daddy!" Tommie would answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, a little peak inside the mind of Thomas' dad. I needed to get back into the writing flow. Pokemon Go has really eaten into my writing time, haha.

"Do you want to break the egg?"

Tommie nodded with enthousiasm. He was standing on a stool but he was still barely tall enough for his head to peek out above the mixing bowl, a frown of concentration on his face as he took the egg in his small hands. He tapped it to the edge of the bowl. His face fell when nothing happened.

"A bit harder," Theo said. "But not too hard, remember?" The first time Tommie had slammed the egg down on the bowl with all the force his little arms could muster and the entire counter had been covered in eggshell and yolk, including Tommie himself. Theo had been quick enough to snap a picture of his shocked face. It was just too funny.

Tommie's frown turned even more serious and he tried again. A crack spread through the eggshell and a grin spread over Tommie's face. "Look Daddy, I did it!"

"Well done!" Theo said. "Now make sure to get all the egg inside the bowl, you're doing great! Oh, there's a few pieces of eggshell, let's get those out before we mix it. Or our bread is going to be all crunchy inside, and do we like that?"

His boy shook his head adamantly and helped pick out the few pieces that had fallen inside the bowl. Theo lifted him up to sit on the counter so he could reach more easily.

"Okay, time to weigh the flour! Do you want to read the scale?"

"Wait Daddy," Tommie said, and picked one more piece of eggshell that Theo had missed, holding it up with all the happiness of a treasure hunter with a golden coin. "It's okay now."

Theo ruffled his son's hair, leaving a floury handprint. Tommie had such a nice eye for details. He got that from his mum, who was a real artist with cakes and cookies. "Well spotted kiddo!"

* * *

 

"We need to talk to your sister," Theo said.

Jolanda sighed. "I know, honey."

Tommie had been spending part of the summer and other school breaks at Claire's place since he was very little. It was only practical - they had a bakery to run after all. This way they didn't have to arrange a babysitter for Tommie and he could spend some time with his cousin Laurie, who was only one year younger. Claire and her husband Hassan didn't mind looking after him for a couple of weeks.

But this time Tommie had come back babbling about demons, of all things.

Of course they knew what religion Jo's sister followed, but they were decent people and they had promised to keep the children away from all that. Demons and kids didn't mix, they had agreed.

"Hassan had left one of the books out on the coffee table," Claire said, when they called her. "I yelled at him already, but what's done is done. It's not such a big deal, don't worry - it was only a theoretical one, dry theory only. Nothing even close to summoning instructions."

But the damage had been done.  From that time on, Tommie was fascinated by anything involving demons. He read every book he could get his hands on and they had to block his internet access for a while until they were certain he wouldn't try some summoning incantation he found online.

They took it in stride, aside from repeated warnings to be careful and never to try any of the practical bits. What could they do, after all? Their son was his own person, with his own interests. They could try to guide him, of course. But being too stern would only make him rebellious and then he'd never trust their advice again. Better to stay supportive of his hobbies and make sure he knew to come to them for help if something bad should happen.

But Theo had to admit... his heart broke a little whenever Tommie answered the question "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

The answer wasn't a resounding "A baker, like you Daddy!" any more.

* * *

 

It was half past five and Tommie finally showed up. He lingered in the doorway, drowsy-eyed and pale-faced. "Sorry I'm late, Dad."

"You've been up all night reading again, haven't you?"

Tommie smiled sheepishly.

Theo shook his head. "Go back to bed," he said, having mercy on his son. "I can handle the morning rush with Irenka."

"Are you sure, Dad? I'm -" a yawn interrupted his words, "- up anyway, so..."

" _Doughnut_ worry, I'm sure," Theo smiled. Tommie laughed at the pun. "You enjoy your summer break. You're only young once."

Tommie was supposed to help out in the bakery during school breaks, but this arrangement really wasn't working. He was too much of a night owl.

"Thanks Dad," Tommie said, and his hand hovered over one of the cinnamon buns that were cooling on the counter. "Can I have one?"

"Of course, help yourself."

"Thanks. They're _egg-_ celent."

"I'd share the recipe with you, but it's on a _knead_ to know basis," Theo said, and they both had to laugh.

* * *

 

"He was supposed to have grown out of this!" Jolanda kneaded the purple food dye into the sugarpaste with vigor. "A hobby, fine. If he wants to study demons in his spare time, fine! But as a job? Actual summonings?  No way in hell!"

There had been a bit of a row when Tommie told them of his plans. He was going to graduate high school in a few months. Time went by so quickly...

These days Thomas insisted on being called by his full name, because "Tommie sounds so childish, I'm not six anymore dad." But to Theo he would always be little Tommie, whatever he wanted to call himself.

"We could have seen this coming," Theo said, adding the ingredients to the industrial mixer and flipping the switch. The loud buzzing sound of the machinery quieted when he activated the silencing spell on it. "He has been talking about demons since he could read."

"He's going to get himself killed," Jolanda said, slamming the sugarpaste onto the workbench.

"This could be the safest option," Theo said. "He knows what he wants to do with his life. Eventually he's going to start summoning demons anyway, with or without those studies. Might as well let them teach him how to do it with the least risk."

"Have you even read about that study course? Only thirty percent of the students reach their final year. The rest drops out or gets killed." Jolanda put the sugarpaste into an airtight bag and switched gloves, so she wouldn't get purple dye on the next clump of sugarpaste she was going to color. "I don't want our son to become a statistic!"

"He won't," Theo said. "He's clever." Sometimes a bit too clever for his own good though.

Jolanda paused in adding the dye, her eyes on the dark red gel dripping over the white mass of sugarpaste. "I just wonder... should we have stopped this earlier? Put our foot down, kept him from those books? Maybe if we had tried to find something else to catch his interest, a safer hobby perhaps -"

"We did try that," Theo said. Tommie had never taken to sports, but the boardgames and roleplaying games had been a big hit. But as an only child he couldn't often play those, so eventually he always returned to his books.

"Maybe we weren't stern enough." Jolanda let out a slow breath. "Are we bad parents?"

"What? Don't be silly," he said, leaving behind the kneading machine to slide an arm around his wife's shoulders. "We all have our little quirks. If our boy likes to study demons, well... Whatever makes him happy, right?"

She only sighed.

So they let Tommie go.

Theo had to admit it as he watched his son go off to university, Tommie wasn't just happy - he flourished. For the first time in his life he had a large group of friends to spend time with and okay, those friends were just as weird as you'd expect from demonology students, but finally Tommie had found his groove in the world. Maybe it wasn't baking, like his parents and his grandparents before him, but he was doing what he loved to do and wasn't that the most important thing?

* * *

 

A little face peeked above the mixing bowl.

"Now pay attention," Theo said. "This recipe has been in our family for many, many generations. It's going to be the best bread ever. But it's a big secret how we make it, okay? Are you sure you can keep that secret?"

It always paid to add some mystery to the whole thing. The little face glowed with excitement.

"I promise," his granddaughter said. "Can I press the mixing button? Please please please?"

"I wanna do the egg!" Another, higher pitched voice cried out. Theo lifted his youngest grandchild up from the floor.

"You can both break an egg," he said. "Ready?"

Egg all over the bakery floor, two happy faces covered in flour and yolk and shell. A new picture to hang on the wall, next to the one of their dad when he had that age.

And a fresh bread in the oven, spreading the smell of home and family and warmth.


	7. Not Cut Out For Animal Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was not going to name it.  
> He was not going to get attached.  
> He was going to prepare everything and in seven days he was going to take that lamb out to the summoning circle and he was going to do what a proper professional demonologist was supposed to do.  
> He... was kidding himself, wasn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This oneshot has been a long time in the making. Finally managed to finish it, yay! 
> 
> This takes place during Thomas' years as a doctorate student, before meeting [Elisha](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7785514/chapters/17759272).
> 
> The Flock is, of course, from ThisCat's's marvellous ['Terrible names last forever'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4708097?view_full_work=true).

The mice were bad enough.

They got them from the science department and Thomas tried to think of it as saving them from being lab animals. They could get those on short notice so there wasn't a 'stock' of cute little mice in the demonology lab he had to feed. He didn't have to interact with them aside from, you know, sacrificing them.

And that was difficult enough, because Thomas rather liked animals. He'd been so relieved when Hicks told them they tried to avoid animal sacrifice. Thomas preferred to use a bit of his own blood to activate his circles, and most demons were happy enough to make deals for store-bought meat. No need to slaughter the animals themselves.

It may be necessary sometimes but he wasn't sure he could do it, you know?

Well... he was going to find out soon. Because in a week they were going to summon Quedoch the Oxyacanthous and his summoning circle could only be activated by the hot life's blood of a lamb. Quedoch was picky like that.

The lamb was already in the lab, in the small animal holding pen. It was just old enough to be weaned from its mother and it must be missing her, because it bleated and bleated and would only stop when Thomas went inside to change the bedding and give it water and food pellets.

It followed him around the small room, it's bony little legs scurrying to keep up. It must be the runt of the herd, because it was still so _tiny_.

He'd taken to leaving the lights of the lab on. The demonology lab was in the cellar and there were no windows down here, but...  there was something really sad about the lamb bleating, all alone in the darkness.

He was _not_ going to name it.

He was _not_ going to get attached.

He was going to prepare everything and in seven days he was going to take that lamb out to the summoning circle and he was going to do what a proper professional demonologist was supposed to do.

He... was kidding himself, wasn't he?

* * *

 

Thomas had spend the past six days taking care of the lamb. He'd caught himself talking to her sometimes while he cleaned the pen.

He may have cleaned that pen way more often than necessary. She would follow him around as he put down fresh hay and she'd try to eat his shoelaces.

That whole not-getting-attached thing? Yeah. That hadn't worked out.

He hadn't seen Tyrone in the past week, which happened occassionally. Who knew what demons did in their spare time? Thomas was careful not to pry too much, but he kept a close eye on the news while Tyrone was gone, just in case.

Thomas was glad Tyrone wasn't here to witness this. He could do without the inevitable mocking.

Stars, this was ridiculous. But here he was, in the middle of the night.

Breaking into the demonology lab.

_Again_. Although this time he did have a key.

The lamb was sleeping, but she quickly woke when he turned on the lights and trotted over to him.

"Hey there, sweetie," he murmured, as she pushed her head against his legs. "Let's get you out of here, right, cupcake? Come on then."

The lamb nibbled at the hem of his pants. He softly scratched behind her ears. Her wool was oily and coarser than expected.

This was a bad idea. How was he ever going to explain this? There couldn't be a summoning tomorrow when the sacrifice had disappeared, and Hicks would just get another lamb.

Maybe he'd find out who was responsible and he would sack Thomas and no one would ever hire him again and he'd be mocked forever and what was he even going to _do_ with a lamb? He lived in an apartment!

He should turn back and go home. Pretend this didn't happen. No one had to know and he could just - he could just pretend to be sick tomorrow, so Hicks had to do the summoning without him!

Yeah!

That would be the smart thing to do!

He stopped scratching her head. She looked up at him, eyes big and trusting and brown as dark chocolate.

"Don't look at me like that," he said. "You're supposed to be food."

She had very long eyelashes. Was that normal for sheep? Maybe she was just a weird one.

"At least Hicks will make it quick tomorrow. You'll even get sedated. It- it will be over soon, you won't feel a thing. I promise."

She pushed her nose against the back of his knees, probably looking for food but he could feel her warm breath through his jeans and stars, _he couldn't_.

He _couldn't_ , okay?

So he did the only thing a rational person could do in this situation. He got out the dog leash and put it around the lamb.

She seemed fine with it, nibbling at the leash for a second before dismissing it as inedible.

Rainbow Basher was parked outside. She was pretty noticable, but he'd weighed the pros and cons of walking home three blocks with a sheep on a leash and decided that no, he would risk driving. At this time of night no one visited the parking lot out back anyway.

Or at least that's what he thought.

"Thomas? Are you down here?"

_Hicks._

He opened his coat and picked the lamb up. She was small enough, he should be able to hide her inside his coat, right? It would look a bit bulky but if he hurried maybe Hicks wouldn't take too close a look...

She didn't even protest - she just folded up her legs and curled against his chest and yeah, this may have been the worst idea ever... but this. This was worth it.

He hurriedly got out of the holding pen and closed the door behind him, right as Hicks came down the stairs.

"There you are!" he said. "At this time of night, Thomas?"

Thomas forced a smile and tried to edge past him on the stairs. "Good evening, sir."

"Is it? I noticed that car of yours outside." Hicks frowned. "You aren't performing a secret summoning, I hope?"

"Of course not," Thomas said. "I'm just... checking if everything is ready for tomorrow. I was at home and I _thought_ I remembered drawing this one sigil but I wasn't _certain_ and I started worrying about it so I thought, oh, I'll just go in for a moment to check it and haha, what do you know, I hadn't forgotten to draw it at all, everything was _fine_. So I'll just be going now. Goodnight sir!"

His coat _baa_ 'd.

Hicks's eyebrows went up.

"Mr Strange?" he said. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Busted.

Thomas opened his coat. The lamb blinked wearily in the sudden light and baa'd again, a warm weight on his arm.

"I... er... Would you believe if I said I'm just taking her out for a breath of fresh air?"

"Bit difficult to get fresh air, hiding under your coat like that," Hicks said.

"Good point, sir," Thomas said. His stomach felt like he had swallowed a stone. "This... I'm fired, aren't I?"

Hicks looked at him for a few long seconds.

"No, Mr Strange, you're not fired," he said. "I'll admit this is a surprise. Perhaps it shouldn't be. All our classes on animal handling have been focused on rodents, fish and insects, after all. Though next time, please _tell_ me if you have a problem with the duties you're assigned. I'm not a despot - we should be able to find an agreeable solution without you having to resort to kidnapping the sacrifice."

"Oh." Stupid, Thomas. He _should_ have spoken to Hicks about it... That would have been the adult thing to do.

Would it have made a difference though?

He swallowed. "There isn't really a solution, is there? Quedoch the Oxyacanthous is very specific in what he wants."

"I could have kept you away from the lamb so you wouldn't get attached."

Thomas looked at the warm little bundle resting against his chest. "It's too late for that, I'm afraid."

"So I noticed. Very well. You find an alternative way to get what we need from Quedoch, and you can keep your lamb." Hicks's smile was wry. "We all have our weak spots, I suppose."

Stars this was embarrassing. He'd really let Hicks down. What kind of demonologist couldn't even perform a real sacrifice?

"I'm really sorry sir. I know I shouldn't care, but -"

"You can't have too much of a soft spot for animals, Thomas. Not all sacrifices can be avoided," Hicks warned him. His tone softened. "But... I'll be honest with you. My predecessor liked to use guinea pigs for most of his summonings. Bred them himself. He used them all the time - even when there were alternatives - because it was 'easy and they'd always done it that way'."

Hicks shook his head with a wry smile. "When I started out as his doctorate student I may have accidentally left the cages open and they all _escaped_ somehow. He was a bit sceptic about them escaping from a locked room, but he _did_ start listening to my suggestions to simply use our own blood to kickstart the circles."

Thomas blinked.

"To this day I'm not sure if he knows it was me... He might have figured it out, eventually." Hicks laughed softly. "I'd suddenly aqcuired forty-three guinea pigs and those days I was still a student living with my parents, they were _not_ amused. As I said, Thomas, we all have our weak spots. Mine are fuzzy and small and love bell peppers."

It was difficult to imagine professor Hicks as a student. Especially as a student who would steal forty-three guinea pigs.

"You should go home," Hicks added. "It's late. We have a lot of work tomorrow. Quedoch has never shown up for any sacrifice but a lamb."

"I will figure something out," Thomas said. "And... thank you, sir."

Hicks smiled faintly and nodded at the lamb. "You can put it back in the pen. I promise we're not going to sacrifice it tomorrow, if you're worried."

Thomas hesitated. A lone huddled shape bleating in the dark... "I'd rather take her home with me, sir. If that's okay."

"Suit yourself," Hicks said. "See you tomorrow, Thomas. Don't be late."

* * *

 

It was five in the morning, he really hadn't gotten enough sleep, and there was a lamb walking around his living room.

Too tired for breakfast. Coffee first.

He dropped down on his couch and closed his eyes, just for a moment.

In three hours he was supposed to go to work. He hadn't found an alternative for the sacrifice yet.

What was he going to do?

The lamb nibbled at the food pellets. He'd put out a cardboard box with hay for her to sleep in and he'd kept her on the leash during the night so she couldn't get in trouble, but somehow she'd still managed to spread that hay all across the living room floor.

There were smelly spots on the floor. He should clean those up.

Coffee first.

"G̝̫̝̪̋̒ͥͦ͠ͅỌ̫̫̆̓̉̀ͬ͋͢O͕̥̥͓̭͔͐̅͆̉D̶̟̰̑̿̊̌ͥͣͅ ̈́͑̿̌͊͂ͣ͏̯M͍̜͇͕̀͌ͦO͇̬̦̅͒̒͆R͕̹̗ͨ͑ͥͬ̒̆ͦN̤̜̼̝̍̍͡Į̖̣̳̱̹̓N̗͕̹͙̅ͤ̾̐̚G̡͈̳̮̜̙͉̭̓͑̇̊ ̻̱̪ͧ͒͆ͬT̪̬ͤ̐̍̀H̝̪̯̙̠̘̳̏́͗͐̓̏O̮̻͍͕͈̞̼͛ͯͬ̅̍̓̈͞M̟̦̙ͪ̆ͩ̅ͧ̎̾A͍̗̘̱͉S̨̗̱̱̹̆̉ͮ!"

With a strangled scream he dropped his hot coffee right in his lap, screamed again at the burn, and grabbed for the mug before it could roll of the couch and smash on the floor.

"A̶̻̺͔R̦̯̻̹̙̔̌ͥͧE͉̰̞̮͔͍̖ͫ̋̑N̏'̢̮͊ͩ͐̐͌T̼̻̿̉̿̍̇ ̫͓̺̞̪̃Ŷ̶͉̹̹͈̙̼̒O̢̞̲̼̿̇ͣͦÛ̪̇͐̋͌ͫ̂ ̰͛̿J̦̣̠̭̥͓͚ͣ̍̈́̀͛̚͟U̱ͨͫ̄M̮̘̹̒̀̀P̸̞͖̬̬̰͉͆̀̏͐ͬY̶̤̠̞͔̝͔͑ͦͤ͒ͥͅ ̽̄̍̏ͫ͒̅T͋̿̍ͤ҉̳͔̹͇̗̩̮O̡͈̱ͤ̏ͪ̊͐D͈͊̌̉ͦA̯̣̟̟͓͇̽Y̻̺̪̘̪?̩͇̰͍̼̹̼͞" Tyrone said, sitting cross-legged in the air next to the television. "O҉ǫps̷,̸ le͏t ̵m̡e͢ c̕l͞ean ̵th͝at̛ u͟p̢ ͝for͜ you̧.͜"

He snapped his fingers and the spilled coffee stopped burning Thomas' lap.

"How about you lose the business voice?" he said, annoyed. "And can you _not_ barge in like that? Are you trying to give me a freaking heart attack?"

"Ẁ̶h̶̶o͢a̢͠ there," Tyrone said, holding up his hands. "I'm sorry I startled you. Had a bad night? Want me to take away your fatigue? I can give you a small boost if you want."

"No." Thomas rubbed his eyes. He got up to refill his mug with coffee and waited for the inevitable question.

"Er, Thomas?"

"Yes?"

"Why is there a lamb in your living room?"

"You know how Hicks mentioned we were going to summon Quedoch the Oxyacanthous today?"

Tyrone stopped hovering and kneeled down to give the lamb a tickle. "Okay, but why is it here?"

"I'm an idiot, that's why." Thomas sighed and explained what had happened last night. Tyrone did a valiant effort not to laugh in his face but he was smiling pretty widely when Thomas finished with: "So... I guess I have a lamb now."

"You're usually a better planner than this," Tyrone said.

"I know! But - do you know how you sometimes get this weird impulse to do something even though you _know_ it's a bad idea and it can't end well? And you don't really let yourself plan for the fallout, because you can't believe you are really going through with it?"

"Uh... Occasionally."

Thomas drained what was left of his coffee in one big gulp. According to the clock it was half past six. The lamb followed him as he got up to put his mug in the sink. Then it discovered the magnets on the fridge and Thomas was barely quick enough to stop her from eating them.

"No cupcake, don't! That's not food!"

Tyrone raised an eyebrow. "You named her Cupcake?"

"Shut up."

"I'm not judging. I've heard worse," Tyrone said. "What are you going to do with her?"

"I honestly have no clue." Thomas dropped back on the couch, lamb safely cuddled in his arms, and groaned. "What was I thinking? I can't keep a sheep on an apartment! And I have no idea what to do about that summons today."

Tyrone snaked an arm around his shoulders and smiled like the demon he was.

"Aren't you lucky," he said, "you've g̬̻o̭t͟ ̵͖̞̩ _m̗̻̰e̙̣̮̰̝͍ͅ_!͏͔̤̦ͅ"

* * *

 

There were two creatures in his apartment. They had dark wool. They were somewhat sheep-shaped. They had a few eyes too many.

Tyrone introduced them with a fond smile. "Thomas, meet Killer and That of Teeth."

He had to stare. "I've never seen sheep with fangs like that before."

"That's because they aren't really sheep,” Tyrone said. “They're nightmares!"

"Oh.” That… made as much sense as anything, he supposed. You got used to weird stuff around Tyrone. These ‘nightmares’ looked dangerous though. “Er… Are you sure they’re not going to eat Cupcake?”

"B̴̧à̧́a̷̡͢a̷̷̛͠à̶͠h̛҉͝," the one with the biggest horns and teeth said. It sounded insulted.

"That of Teeth says, don't worry, they'll be nice," Tyrone translated.

"They can talk? Of course they can talk. They can probably fly and spit fire too. At this point nothing can surprise me anymore."

The definitely-not-a-sheep gave Tyrone a Look. "B̧͢͜a̴̛͜͞a͡҉͜҉à҉̡a̕͢͡h̨͘."

"I know, I know," Tyrone said. "He's tired, that's all. He's usually more clever than this."

"Hey!" Had a sheep just insulted him?

"B̛͘͟҉ą̶̸̧͠a͟͢͠͝a̛a̛҉̨a͏́a̛͠h͞͡͞ ́͢b҉̡͢a̡̛͞҉͞a̴̢͠h̵͘͠." The other, smallest sheep sounded vaguely female underneath the demonic distortion. "B̶̸̛̕̕a̶̷͞͞a҉͏̨͜͞a҉͟͟h̛́.̷̧̛̀."

"What did she say?" Thomas asked.

"Killer promises they will take good care of the little one," Tyrone said. "Really, don't worry. The Flock may look scary but they're big softies really. Especially towards kids. Or lambs, in this case."

Cupcake had kept her distance from the pair since they popped into Thomas’ apartment, hiding in his arms. He couldn’t blame her. He’d have liked to keep his distance too. Or at least a nice sturdy protection circle. He couldn’t deny these Nightmares looked like sheep, more or less, but they were surely the fiercest, most dangerous sheep a mind could ever dream up.

“So let me get this straight,” he said. “You actually have a – a flock of Nightmares in the Mindscape, who for some reason look like sheep, and you want to let them adopt Cupcake?”

“Not _a_ flock, _the_ Flock,” Tyrone corrected.

“Is that even possible? Cupcake is a normal lamb. Can she even survive in the Mindscape?”

“Probably, yes.” Tyrone shrugged at Thomas’ frown. “I can arrange it so she can, no problem. I’ve never really tried it before, but I’m like, ninety percent certain it’ll work like a charm.”

“Only ninety?”

“She’ll be _fine_. Trust me!”

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately,” Thomas said. He cuddled Cupcake a bit closer to him. “I don’t know…”

“I’ll let you visit her whenever you want,” Tyrone said. “And the Flock is really nice when you get to know them.”

“Well…”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Thomas looked down at Cupcake, who blinked at him sleepily. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

She baa’d softly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

* * *

 

That only left the problem of what to do with Quedoch the Oxyacanthous. They couldn’t just switch to a different demon, because Hicks needed one of Quedoch’s many horns, specifically.

“I could just get it for you,” Tyrone had offered. “How many horns does he need anyway? I’ll grab a few.”

“Let’s not terrorize _every_ demon we try to summon, okay?” Thomas said. “You’re powerful, sure, but there’s strength in numbers. If you interfere too often, they might decide to band together to get rid of you.”

“Demons don’t work together easily,” Tyrone said. “Heh, it’s been ages since I worried about stuff like that. They’d have to be a _really_ big group if they want to give me any trouble.”

“Well, how many of them have you pissed off recently?”

Tyrone frowned. “Depends on what you call ‘recent’… Huh. You may have a point there."

"Best not give them any ideas then. Besides, Hicks has everything arranged for the deal itself. It’s only calling him to the circle that’s a problem.” Thomas rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming up. “He only shows up for a lamb sacrifice.”

If there was one thing he’d learned during the past few years, it’s this: there is _always_ a loophole.

“Why?” he asked. “I can see two reasons why he wouldn’t answer summons. Either they’re too weak to call him without animal sacrifice, and the lamb itself is a catalyst or amplifier or something, since he has a specific link with sheep… or he’s just being picky and difficult and chooses not to answer the summons if there’s no lamb.”

It didn’t matter, he realized. Both had the same solution: make the sacrifice powerful enough and he would have no choice whether to answer the summons or not.

“I think the former is more likely,” Tyrone said. “Even I can’t ignore summons whenever I want to - they get too annoying to ignore - and Quedoch is way less powerful than I am. So it’s a matter of how strong the summons is. You _could_ probably call him without killing a lamb, but I’m not sure what sacrifice would be strong enough to replace it.” A pause. “Human would work, of course, but that’s not an option. Right?”

“Right,” Thomas said, his mind whirring. “That’s illegal.”

“Another animal might work. But I agree the link with sheep probably works to amplify the summoning circle,” Tyrone said. “Without that link you’d have to use an animal that’s worth more, in sheer size, intelligence or sentiment.”

Yeah, a beloved family pet. That had the biggest chance of succeeding.

“Also _not_ an option,” Thomas said. He sighed. "I really need more time to figure this out.”

Sacrifices were an extremely complex field of study. One of Hicks's current research topics was mapping the difference between types of sacrificial blood - willingly given, forcibly taken or unknowingly donated. Not the mention the whole thing about virginity and the differences between pure of body, pure of soul and pure of heart. The same sacrificial blood could even have a different effect on the summoning  depending on the hour of the day.

So there probably was some wiggle room in Quedoch's requirement for a slaughtered lamb. Maybe it didn't have to be a real lamb at all...

Wait.

Could that...?

"Right," Thomas said. "You're going to think I'm crazy, but... would this work?"

He told Tyrone about his idea.

It took a while before Tyrone stopped laughing.

"Yeah," he said, still grinning like a loon. "That _could_ work. I can arrange that for you."

* * *

 

He did his best to ignore Hicks's bemused look.

Stars, he hoped this would work.

The large bucket of lamb blood - fresh from the slaughterhouse - was steaming slightly when it came out of the microwave. Thomas put it in front of him, pricked his finger on the sterilised needles every demonologist needs, and massaged several drops into the bucket.

Blood, willingly given. That was a strong sacrifice.

Well, here goes.

He tipped the bucket over the edge of the circle, into the grooves made for the sacrifice, careful not to disturb the chalk lines of the binding.

Luckily the summoning incantation was easy. He wasn't certain if he could focus on Ancient Sumerian right now.

"Quedoch the Oxyacanthous, I call for thee. Quedoch the Many-Horned, I call for thee. Quedoch of the Red-Stained Wool and Empty Meadows, I call for thee. Come!"

Please work, please work...

The blood of the sacrifice moved like water running upwards, covering the shape that gained color as it grew in the center of the circle. Quedoch was a mass of muscles, horns and red-stained claws.

"W̊̈ͬͫ̏͡H̹̝̘͙͇͓͒ͥ̇ͦ͋ͦ͛͟O͔̐̊ͬ̀̊͋ͫ ̜ͧ̋̌ͬͭͭD̨ͯA̙̘̳ͧ͛̐ͬ̿RE̵͙̓͛ͭͥ̃S̃҉̹̥ ̬̾ͬ̚̕C̹̲͔̲͈Ǎ̮̩̪̼̭ͫ̏̽ͣ̄L̘̟͚͈͌̾͊̋̀̾̚̕L̷̺͑́̊̒̋ ̨̤̳̬̹̦̬̥ͭ͛͒͆ - W͖͡AI҉̞̹̩͉T̜͘, ̢͇̗W͈̖̗͚̱̜͝H͈̝̼̼͍͈E̹͚Ṛ̝̗̲Ę̳̖̣̫̱ ̣̥͢I̭͠S̞̦̠͙̪̻̜͡ ͇͡M̝̺̳̣̼̙Y̟̳͎̟͓̗̻ ̥̥̜̱͈͡ͅḾ̭̹̯̩͉̫̘U̧̪̱Ṯ̴̛T͞͏̤̜̯̗ͅͅͅO̧̪̻̦͖͍Ǹ͇̱̟?̨͈̼̠ Ṱ̞͇HͅER̟̀Ę'҉̮̯͔̼̙͇̫S̘̯̜̜͚͓͘ ̠̲͓͉͍S͔̰U͡P͓̙̟P̡̬̖͚O̺̠S̙Ḛ̞͉͝D̛̮ ͔͔̲͡T̳͕̣̤̪̪͘O̲̠̲͜ ̮͓̼̦̳͢Ḅ̘͇͕̲ͅE̗͙͕̬ ͓̭Ḿ̭̹̯̩͉̫̘U̧̪̱Ṯ̴̛T͞͏̤̜̯̗ͅͅͅO̧̪̻̦͖͍Ǹ͇̱̟!"

"You'll get mutton when you make a deal," Thomas said, and the rather confused eyes of the demon turned to him.

They blinked.

"H̷̸̡̖̟͙͖̰U̷͖͇̺͕̝̼̮͍̱H͚͓̜?"

Hicks took over then, proposing the deal he'd already prepared.

Thomas removed the fluffy, floppy-eared bonnet and shrugged off the woolly vest with that ridiculous pink bow. Too bad he couldn't get rid of the fluffy pants right now, but making a deal dressed in his underwear was perhaps even worse than dressed up in a lamb costume.

Willingly given blood. From a 'lamb'.

He couldn't believe it had worked. He was so relieved and damn it, yes, even proud! This was kind of a big breakthrough! Sacrificial theory wasn't complex enough already, heh. Now he'd proven summoning strenght could be manipulated with nothing but a cheap (sheep) costume!

He only wished Tyrone and Hicks hadn't taken so many pictures.


	8. A Slight Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has a videochat with his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fenerismoon asked: How do you think Thomas’s parents react to meeting [Elisha](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7785514?view_full_work=true)?
> 
> Mostly with... surprise.

They didn’t see their son that often, but occasionally he did remember to videochat.

“How’s your research going?” Theo asked. “Only three more months to go, right?”

Then his son would be doctor Thomas Strange. It had a nice ring to it.

“I’m down to the wrap-up, so it’ll be finished in time for sure,” Tommie replied. “The actual data generation is long over, luckily. Right now I’m waiting for feedback, then it’ll be some more rounds of rewriting. I have a shot at getting it published in _American Supernaturalist_ \- not _quite_ the _International Journal of Paranormal Sciences_ , but still a pretty respected journal. So that’d be awesome.”

“Let us know in time when that issue comes out, so we can get a thousand copies,” Jolanda said, smiling at their son.

“Maybe a thousand is a bit much,” Tommie laughed. “I’ll make sure you get a few. One for Grandma, one for Auntie Claire - hey, talking about Auntie Claire, she called me last week, said she wanted to meet up soon. Do you have any idea what she wants to talk about?"

Theo shared a resigned look with his wife. It had to happen sometime... really, it was a surprise Claire had waited this long.

"She probably wants to talk to you about the Circle," Jolanda said in a neutral voice. "She might ask you if you'd like to join."

Tommie got the weirdest look on his face.

"Yeah," he said, slowly. "I don't think that's ever going to happen. Don't worry mum, I'm not joining any cult. Especially not the Circle. I met Alcor before and I think his ego's big enough already, without being actively worshiped."

"Hey!" a voice piped up from the background. Tommie turned away from the screen to roll his eyes at someone on his left.

"You know I'm right, Tyrone!"

They'd seen Alcor the Dreambender too, on that confusing and weird graduation ceremony. To this day Theo wasn't certain what he'd seen exactly. There had been something odd about Alcor, something Theo couldn't quite put his finger on...

Well, it was a demon. Of course he'd be odd. Best not to think about it too much.

They could hear Tyrone's voice in the background, complaining to someone, but the voice that answered was one Theo didn't recognize.

"Are you having friends over?"

"Oh, right," Tommie said, smiling. "Not really - I actually called to tell you about this. That's Elisha."

The way he said it, the happy glow on his face - Theo didn't need to ask who this Elisha was.

"Oh," Jolanda said, before Theo got the chance to react. "That's nice."

"Yeah, we're kind of together now? It's been a few months actually, but you know, I just never got around to telling you... She's really wonderful."

"You should bring her around some time," Theo said. "We'd love to meet her."

"Right now? She's in the kitchen with Tyrone, I can call her -"

"Wait, wait," Jolanda said. "What about Tyrone?"

Tommie frowned. "What about him?"

"How is he taking this?"

Theo nudged his wife's leg, but she didn't get the message. She frowned at him. "What? It's a valid question."

"Uh, they get along fine?" Tommie said. "She did mace him last night but he honestly deserved that... I don't really understand where you're going with this, mum?"

"Well, I always figured - you often mention Tyrone having breakfast at your place, and he's pretty much always around whenever we call -"

"What your mother is trying to say is, we'll always support you," Theo said. "But we're a bit confused now.  Did you break up with Tyrone? Or, ah, if you're having a- er, polyamorous relationship or something, well, this _is_ the thirty-fourth century, you can tell us."

Tommie seemed struck speechless. He stared at the screen with the wide eyes of utter shock.

In background, they could hear someone laughing like a loon. Theo fiddled with the settings on his sound system - there seemed to be some audio glitching with that laugh.

"Right," Tommie said, after a long, long minute. "This is - no. Just... _no_. Tyrone is a friend. Nothing more. Sure, he has breakfast here sometimes, but not - not because he spent the night! Well, occasionally he does - but not in _that_ way. And even if I - he's _Tyrone_."

The young man in question popped up behind Tommie, a wide and teasing grin on his face. "Why, is there something wrong with me?"

"I could make a list if you want," Tommie said.

"Ow, harsh."

"Hello Tyrone," Theo said, a bit embarrassed now. He'd thought Tyrone was still in the kitchen. How much had he heard?

"Hi, Mr and Mrs Strange," Tyrone said. He plopped down on the couch next to Tommie. "How's the bakery?"

"Business is going well, thank you," Jolanda said. "And I did say you could call us by our first names."

Tommie turned to someone off-screen. "Elisha? Do you want to say hi to my parents?"

"We don't bite," Jolanda promised.

A petite figure settled on the couch on Tommie's other side. Perfectly coiffed and manicured, very nicely dressed for this time of the morning, a rather nervous smile on her face.

"Good morning, Mr and Mrs Strange," she said.

"Oh, don't call us that," Jolanda said. "My husband is Theo and you can call me Jo. You must be Elisha!"

"We're sorry for any misunderstandings," Theo added. If Tyrone had heard, maybe Elisha had too...

"Thomas doesn't tell us much about his love life, so we have to guess," Jolanda said.

"Mum!"

"Hush Tommie, it's true. You both should come over for dinner sometime," Jolanda went on. "I'll make a cake."

"I love your baking, Mrs Jo," Tyrone grinned. "Those cookies with the strawberry icing you sent last time were amazing!"

"Thank you. I'll put some aside for you next time."

Elisha whispered something to Tommie, then she got up. "I'm sorry, I need to get ready for work. It was very nice meeting you."

"Likewise," Theo said. "I hope we get more of a chance to chat next time. See you soon."

\---

Their video call ended soon after, because they couldn't leave Irenka alone too long with the morning rush.

"So..." Jolanda said, putting on her white apron. "Want to bet how many people are going to think our boy made a demon deal to get a girlfriend like that?"

"Tommie wouldn't do such a thing."

" _We_ know that. Other people might think differently."

"She seemed nice, if somewhat distant," Theo said. "But that could be the nerves."

"I can't wait to meet her properly. Though to be honest, I'm still a bit floored about Tyrone."

"You and me both. Maybe we shouldn't jump to conclusions next time."

His wife shot him a dry, dry look. "Remember who got Tommie that garish truck? I never got cars from my friends."

"You never got a car from your boyfriend either," he teased.

"True," Jolanda admitted. "I did get a lot of other things though."

"Oh really? What kind of things?"

She slid her arms around his shoulders. "A wonderful family, lots of happy memories, and of course... _plenty_ of grey hairs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit about Alcor's ego and the idea that Dipper has some kind of glamour to prevent people from easily connecting his demonic form and his Tyrone-disguise comes from a comment by suddenlyGoats :-) 
> 
> I think the glamour works like this: if you're *certain* about what you see, you see the truth. If you have any little doubts whatsoever, the glamour amplifies those doubts until you don't make the connection anymore. That's why some people can look through the glamour and some people can't.
> 
> It probably would've been easier to just shift into a different shape, so Tyrone doesn't look like Alcor at all, but I guess it's sometimes nice to look like yourself, right?


	9. The Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has a bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this prompt](http://flying-guinea-pig.tumblr.com/post/149575773219/prompt-at-some-point-thomas-is-called-up-by-his) from Feneris.
> 
> Then it got away from me. Sorry! Not exacly what I had in mind in the beginning, but eh, it is what it is.

_Beep beep._

_Beep beep._

_Beep beep._

Thomas groaned and made a few haphazard gestures at his alarm clock. Eventually one of them made contact and he flipped the switch. The beeping stopped.

He rolled onto his back and blinked at his ceiling.

Wait.

Alarm clock.

That meant he had to get up.

A glance at the clock told him it was half past eight.

 _Half past eight?_ He had to be at the University at nine!

Adrenaline coursing through his body, he struggled out of his blanket fort and hurried to get ready. Bathroom, shower, clothes, toothbrush - all the while cursing his alarm clock. Why was it set so late? He usually got up at seven!

He was halfway through buttoning his shirt when the realisation struck.

God. Damnit.

It was Saturday.

He usually slept in on Saturdays, but he was meeting Elisha for lunch at noon and he'd wanted to get some housework done before he left. Well, that wasn't going to be a problem. He was wide awake now.

He finished buttoning up his shirt and went to the kitchen. Apparently Tyrone had been here during the night, because there were more dirty dishes in the sink than yesterday, and the table was littered with crumbs.

Untold centuries old, and he still hadn't learned to clean up after himself.

Grumbling, Thomas took the dish cloth to wipe the table - but then he caught sight of the milk.

Next to the fridge.

Not _in_ the fridge, where it was _supposed_ to be, he _hated_ lukewarm milk in his cereal, how _freaking_ hard _could it be_ , Tyrone!

His phone rung. Thomas paused his glowering at the mess Tyrone had left behind for long enough to pick up his phone.

Huh. Strange... Aunt Claire never called.

"Hello, this is Thomas."

"Good morning! It's your auntie Claire. Listen, am I bothering you with something? Do you have a moment?"

She sounded rushed and serious. Thomas frowned and nodded.

Right. Phone. She couldn't see a nod.

He really needed some coffee.

"Yes, I have some time. What is this about?"

"Good, good! I want to ask for your help. You know Uncle Hassan and I are part of the Circle, yes?"

"Well, yes." She'd only invited him to join _five or six times_ by now. This wasn't about joining again, was it?

"Right, of course," Aunt Claire said. "Well, as you probably know, it's the summer solstice tonight, and the Circle always has this big ceremony and festival planned on the summer solstice. Not every branch gets to do a summoning, you know - we don't want to bother our Lord with too many calls on His attention - and this year _our_ branch of the Circle has the honour of hosting the big celebrations! We have everything ready - a _beautiful_ sacrifice even if I say so myself, it's a young calf with a star-shaped spot on its side, _way_ better than the pig last year's branch offered - but anyway, there was a slight hiccup. Our Circle leader had a heart attack."

"Oh dear," Thomas said.

"He'll be fine," his aunt went on. "But he's not getting out of the hospital today, and the ceremony is tonight. There are a few other higher-up Circle members who could do the summoning, but they have food poisoning so they're out too."

"What, all of them at the same time?"

"They had dinner at the same restaurant, all together. The thing is, we have no one with experience in summoning our Lord. And the solstice is tonight."

"Can't you ask some other branch to send someone?" They couldn't _all_ have food poisoning or heart attacks, right?

There was a short but icy silence on the other end of the line.

"It's _our_ turn this year," his aunt said. "We're not letting them take that from us. Everything is ready, Thomas, we just need someone for the practical part. I know this isn't your thing and I completely understand if you're worried about summoning the Dreambender - He is so _powerful_ after all - but I'm sure you'll be safe with us. If you could just call Him into this world, then take a step back and we'll get on with the actual ceremony... could you do that? For your favorite auntie?"

Thomas was good at lots of things. Saying 'no' to a more-or-less reasonable request wasn't one of them.

He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.

"Where is this thing happening? And what time does at it all start? I'll need at least an hour beforehand to prepare."

Aunt Claire gave him the specifics, her smile audible in her voice as she thanked him for helping her and she'd "make sure you'll get paid something for this, Thomas, this is like a job for you isn't it? I'll arrange something! See you tonight!"

"Yeah, see you tonight," Thomas said, disconnecting the phone call.

His stomach growled. Time to have that breakfast. Maybe the milk would be cold enough by now...

In the end it didn't matter what temperature the milk had. Tyrone had also finished the cereal and put the empty box back into the cupboard. A few crumbs fell out when Thomas upended it over his bowl.

People _worshipped_ that guy? Clearly they didn't know what a monster he truly was.

* * *

 

Elisha’s coworker was charming as always when Thomas went to _Les Ciseaux_. Honestly, how many months had he and Elisha been together now? You’d think Sylvi would have realised that he wasn’t going to do something horrible.

He usually tried to be as friendly as possible to that woman - mostly because it seemed to make her even more paranoid - but he was not in the mood for fake politeness today.

“Is Elisha ready for lunch yet?” he asked, dropping into one of the fancy chairs to wait.

“She’s finishing up,” was Sylvi’s icy answer. “Those chairs are for paying customers.”

He ignored that last part. “Great, thanks.”

She made a disapproving noise and went back to aggressively organising the papers on her desk.

Thomas felt his mood lift when Elisha showed up. She greeted him with a peck on his cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

“I’m not in a hurry,” he said. “Lunch?”

She looped her arm through his. “Lunch,” she agreed.

It was easy to ignore Sylvi’s glare with his amazing girlfriend next to him.

“You’re wearing that shirt I got you,” Elisha said as they walked to the nearest sandwich place. Her expression was fond. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said. He was getting used to these nice shirts, though the buttons could be a pain sometimes. He looked a bit more like an actual professor these days.

“Something on your mind?” Elisha said, after a while. “You’re quieter than usual.”

“Just having a bit of a bad day,” he admitted. “I kinda panicked this morning, thought I had overslept. And Tyrone left a mess in the kitchen again. I mean, how hard is it to put the milk back in the fridge after using it? It’s not rocket science.”

"True."

"You know me, I'm not the tidiest person myself -"

She nodded sagely. "Very true."

"- I mean, I leave dirty clothes around all the time, my bedroom chair overflows with them -"

"I noticed."

"- not to mention the gaming supplies, I keep finding dice whenever I clean underneath the couch -"

"Don't forget the books," she added, helpfully.

"- yes, _exactly_ , the books! Those are mostly for work, but still, my point stands! No one can call me obsessed with cleanliness. But a kitchen is a kitchen. That's where you _prepare food_. Leaving crumbs all over the place, empty wrappers - that's how you get _ants_ , you know..."

She listened to his complaints with more patience than he probably deserved. They had ordered their sandwiches and found their seats when he finally wound down.

“... sorry,” he finished. “I’m making too much of a fuss about this, aren’t I?”

“That’s okay,” she said. “You listen when I need to vent about my coworkers, after all. I know what it’s like, it’s all these little things that keep adding up. Have you told Tyrone yet how much they annoy you? Maybe he doesn’t realise.”

“He should be old and smart enough to _notice_ , in my opinion,” Thomas said. “How many passive-aggressive notes do I need to leave around the apartment for that guy to get a hint? Sheesh. Omniscient, my ass!”

Elisha shook her head. “Maybe you should try a more direct approach.”

“Maybe,” he said. He took a bite out of his sandwich and let his thoughts drift for a moment. Oh, right - “By the way, before I forget… Uh, remember how I said I wasn't in a cult?"

Elisha folded her arms across her chest. "I hope you haven't been lying about that. I'd hate to tell Sylvi she was right all this time."

"No, no, I wasn't lying, I would never," he hurried to say. "But... my aunt and uncle are, kind of. It's a bit embarrassing, really."

"Embarrassing? Why?"

He made a face. "They're part of the Circle."

She frowned, so he clarified: "Circle of the Dreamers' Star? They, well, they basically worship Tyrone."

"Oh," she said. Blinked. " _Oh._ Do they know about -?"

"No, it never came up," Thomas said. "I'm not that close to them - used to spend summers at their place, but that's years ago - and how do you tell someone you have regular movie nights with their god?”

Elisha hid a laugh behind her cup of coffee. "True. Why did you bring this up now? Are your aunt and uncle coming for a visit?"

Thomas told her about the phone call, ending with: "So we'll have to postpone our date night, I guess. Sorry."

"That's okay, Thomas." She smiled teasingly. "I'll record _Heart's Eternal Tempest_ and we can watch it together tomorrow. You're not getting out of this so easily."

Thomas forced a smile. Pretending to be a cultist tonight, watching a weepy romantic drama tomorrow. This was going to be quite a fun weekend.

At least he could curl up next to Elisha during the film. There were much worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon...

* * *

 

It was a two hours drive to the convention center where the Circle held its big solstice ceremony. When Thomas pulled Rainbow Basher into the parking lot, he had to wonder... How many people showed up for this thing anyway? The convention center was huge!

He managed to find a spot near the back entrance, next to a large van from a catering company. Two guys were hanging around another van, carrying sound and light equipment inside.

This... was a bit bigger than he expected it to be.

He’d gotten used to giving lessons and demonstrations for an audience - he was a teacher after all. But that was about thirty people, tops - the annual public summoning demonstration drew in a bigger crowd, but Hicks still handled those.

If the size of the parking lot was any indication, this audience size was going to be more than thirty. This was going to be thirty with a few zeroes added.

Oh stars, what had he signed up for?

“Thomas!”

Uncle Hassan just exited the building. He held open the door for the guys with the lighting array and then came to greet Thomas.

“Good to see you,” he said with a smile. “How was your trip here? Not too much traffic I hope? Oh - that is your truck? It is very… unique.”

“You have no idea,” Thomas said. He gave Rainbow Basher’s hood a fond pat. “Traffic was okay, I guess.”

“Can I help you unload?” Uncle Hassan offered. He pushed away the tarp Thomas kept covering the truck bed.

“I just brought one bag,” Thomas said, taking it from the backseat. He brought some basic demonology supplies - chalk and candles and the like. Nothing too fancy. Alcor was easy to summon, even for people who didn’t have him on speed dial in their phone.

Uncle Hassan was still blinking at the truck bed.

“You can’t drive your car inside the convention center, you realise that, right?”

“What? Oh - the summoning circle.” Aaaand that’s why he usually kept it covered up. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on using that one. I’ll make a proper one on stage, as agreed.”

“But why do you have the Dreambender’s summoning circle painted on your truck?” Uncle Hassan was frowning. “You’re not part of another Alcor cult, are you? Eternal Hymns? Or -” he exaggerated a shiver, “the Dippingsauce one?”

“No, no, I’m not in any cult.” Why did people keep asking him that? “I got this car through a friend of mine, and he’s... very into Alcor and Alcor-related things.”

Uncle Hassan lowered his voice. “Twin Souls?” he asked, as if the words itself were blasphemy.

“... yes. Yes, indeed. I got this from a Twin Souls fanatic and that’s why it has Alcor’s circle in the back. Makes perfect sense.”

Rainbow Basher’s engine fired up in a short, amused growl, and died down again.

“Did your car just -” Uncle Hassan began to ask, but Thomas’ patience was fading. He hiked his bag higher up on his shoulder.

“So! Can I start preparing?”

* * *

 

The ceremonial robes were black, with fancy sigils in golden thread. Very ornate. Very heavy.

This was Hell.

“Do I really have to wear these?” he said, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

His aunt laughed. “Of course you do! You’re going to summon Alcor the Dreambender, you have to look the part. Don’t you wear robes when you summon demons?”

“Not exactly.” Sometimes he’d wear a lab coat, but that was only to prevent his clothes getting splattered. Some demons liked to make a mess, whether with blood, ichor or unnamed eldritch oozes.

“So remember,” Aunt Claire said, straightening his collar. “The welcoming ceremony is at half past seven in the entrance hall. Afterwards we all go to Hall B for the solstice dinner. At ten o’clock we convene in Hall A for the actual solstice celebrations - some texts will be read, there’ll be singing and such - and sundown is at half past ten, that’s when you perform the summoning, also in Hall A. So you need to have everything set up and ready to go before ten, alright? Because you can’t be drawing on the floor during the readings of course.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” Thomas said. Drawing Alcor’s circle usually didn’t take that much time. Tyrone would probably show up if he just put down a one-eyed star and a candle, but for a ceremony like this something a bit more intricate was expected.

“Gwen will bring in the sacrifice around half past nine,” his aunt went on. “It’ll be tranquilized already, but _if_ it wakes up, you should notify her immediately.”

“Who is going to sacrifice it? Will the Master of Ceremonies do that or am I supposed to?”

“He’ll do it. Don’t forget to give him the cue, though.” She took a deep breath. “This will go smoothly. You’ll do fine. Exciting, isnt it?”

* * *

 

The summoning circle was huge. It covered almost the entire podium. The summons was the important bit of these whole proceedings after all.

Lots of superfluous curls and embellishments. But Thomas had to admit, it did look _very_ fancy.

Gwen was a middle aged woman who looked like she could lift a cow with her bare hands - and that was exactly what she was doing. She gave him a friendly nod and deposited the sacrificial calf on the part of the stage that had been set aside for it.

"You must be Claire's nephew," she said, in a surprisingly low voice. She shook his hand. "The demonologist, yes? She's very proud of you. Thank you for helping us out with this."

"Ah, well, it's no problem," Thomas said. He surreptitiously tried to massage some feeling back into his fingers.

She patted the snowy white flanks of the calf. "He's a beauty, isn't he? Not a mark on him, except for this one."

There was a dark spot on the calf's flank, perfectly shaped like a five-pointed star. Not quite as _pointy_ as the symbol was supposed to be, but recognizable anyway.

"Crazy expensive," Gwen said. "But our Lord will be pleased."

"I'll bet," Thomas said. Most of the time he just used his own blood to jumpstart the summons. But, well. He didn't _revere_ the demons he summoned, so he always picked the cheapest option available.

He looked at the large, large hall. There were a few seats, but most of it was empty. Lots of room to stand.

“Question,” he said. “Er. How many people are coming to this celebration, anyway?”

Gwen shrugged. “About four thousand.”

“Oh.”

* * *

 

Dusk came all too soon. The reddish glow of the setting sun through the high-up windows had made room for the deep purples of nightfall. The final notes of the choir died down.

The Master of Ceremonies turned towards Thomas and gave him a nod. Thomas swallowed and stepped forward.

Four thousand faces looked at him expectantly.

Well then.

He touched his microphone clip to turn it on. It was just summoning Tyrone. He'd done that a thousand times. It's not like he was going to fail, right? Tyrone would show up _anyway_. No reason to be nervous. Right?

He took his spot near the oversized summoning circle and spread his arms. The summoning incantation the Circle used was a bit longer than the standard version.

"O Astre Somniatorum, O tutella nostra noctu, vos complectimus. Bestiam alligatam et lumen refulgum sit. Comis et aecus, pollens et luculentus estis. Vestri sumus. Nostri estis. Cors vos complectet."

The audience repeated those last sentences in a reverent murmur. Four thousand voices muttering in unison was one hell of a creepy sound.

_"Vestri sumus. Nostri estis. Cors vos complectet."_

Thomas gave the Master of Ceremonies a meaningful look. The man lifted the tranquilized calf to the appropriate spot and expertly slit its throat.

The calf slept peacefully through its final moments, hot red blood touching the chalk lines and making them spark and glow.

"Astrum splendidum, vos invocamus," Thomas recited. "Dicimus nomen vestrum: **Alcor**!"

The entire hall was dead silent as smoke unfurled inside the circle. Miniature lightning flashed through the dark clouds.

Alcor the Dreambender appeared with all the flashy showmanship expected of a major demon, a man-shaped void of utter blackness with lines of golden fire and a wide, fanged mouth, wings arced and brushing the edge of the circle.

Someone who wasn’t used to demons would be very impressed by these theatrics. Even Thomas had to admit he got a faint chill as Alcor appeared in all his glory - the power radiating from him was a noticeable tingle in the air, especially as close to him as Thomas was right now.

“A̝̱̱͈͇̞ͥ̅ͮͅLͭ̽͋͗͂͗̾C̜͕ͧ̐̀͐ͭ͆ͅO̖͉̞̱̖ͪ͌ͤ̑̐R͉͍̱͍̄̉ͦͩ ̷̩̩͎͔̖̽̆ͥ͆T̥͙̬̩̺̹̩ͬ͐͐͒H̞̮̺̰̬͙ͩ̌̓͜E͔̯̰̒͊ͬ͂̍͞ ̲̙̹̳̙͇ͮD͖̩̿̓̓͌́̚R͓̲͛E͋ͩͬ̓ͪ̒̉͏̥̼̰̰̻̬ͅA̷̘͍̫ͧͯ͒̋ͪ̈́̔M͉͇͙̯̈́́ͅB͓̟̜̻̏̌͗̄̏͠E͍̜͑͑̐ͪ̍̑ͅṆ͍̺̠̦̠̟ͭ̾̑D̍̈́ͮ͢E̗̫͇̝ͩ̒ͮ̆̀͢R̘̬͔̆̏̔ ̱̩̞̼̝̝ͭ̔H̨̞̮̹̣̻͙̾̇̌͐ͧẠ͚̋̒̒̎ͦ̅̍S̫͘ ͚̮̐͛̽ͥ͠ͅHE̟Ä́ͫ̎ͭ̄R̸͆D͕̫̔ͨͦ̊͑̉̚ ̛̻̍̿ͬ͑̊Y̩̯Õ͔͙̎̇͑̆ͬU͙̹̼̣̯̩̐ͤ͐ͩͅR̡̘͍̬̐̏ͅ ͇̰̗̠̖̟̍̑̉͐ͤ̐͆̀C̣̦͓̞̲͕̃̾ͣ̿ͧ͛̑ͅA̦͙͕̦̹͙̝͘L̗̖̊L̼̜̮̼̫̹ͧ.͍͓͗̃̌͑ S̨͙ͮͬ̚P̦̣͗ͤ͋̿ͯ̄̾̊́E̴̛̥̜͔̞͒̒̈́̾Ạ͎̦̹̳̭̜͕̎ͨ͋̀ͤ̾͂͘ͅK̢̰͚ͤ͆ͭ̒̃̐̏̄́.”

Those gold-on-black eyes widened for a split second as Tyrone noticed who had summoned him. Then he turned away, towards the audience and the Master of Ceremonies, who  started a long and formal greeting.

“We welcome you, oh Alcor the Dreambender, Brightest Star in the night, who guides our dreams and weaves order out of chaos -”

Who leaves candy wrappers everywhere, was more like it.

Thomas snorted, forgetting he was still wearing the clip-on microphone.

The sound travelled through the speakers, amplified to be heard by the entire Hall, and the Master of Ceremonies fell silent as Alcor’s attention moved back to Thomas.

"D͎̹͉̀I͏̜̣̜̙͔̩̗D͇͖͡ ̶̹̘͖̣̺͎Y̤̱͓̙̠O̝̱̰̖̗U̵ ̖̘̤̥̬͡W͚̝̘͠A̸N̞͓̻͠T͖͉̬̰̦͇͖͢ ̖̣TO̷͙ ͔͙S̙͕̺̞͎̣A̲̬̦̭̮Y̤͔͇̟̯͜ ͚̟̯̣̩͎Ṣ̖̠O̥̦̬M̼̟̦E̷͙͍̝͉T̬̤̙̥̜̞̕H̦̯͎̖̝̪Ì͉̼͔̲̟N͔̜̝̬͓G̥͚͡ͅ?̘" he said in that distorted voice. His eyes glinted with mischief.

Everyone was looking at him now. Come on, Tyrone! He _had_ to be kidding. This was not the time or place to joke around!

“... no,” Thomas said, feeling the weight of all those eyes on him. “Just a cough. Oh Dread Weaver of Nightmares.”

“T̨Ḥ̗͕͚̼Á̻̺͚̠T ͏͈̲̩̝͍͕̮W̛̤̫̮͎̜͇O̖͔ͅN͇̖͜'̞̗̹̭͈͖͠T͖͎̤̦̲̙ ̡͚D̫O̝̳̤̻̦͖ ̪͚͔̬͘A̴͕ͅT̫̝̲͠ ̨ͅA̭͇̣͜L̫̬̝̹̝̱̣͢L̷͓.͏͍͙͇” Alcor said. He snapped his fingers and a jar of throat lozenges, edged in blue flames, materialized in front of Thomas. "H͕͔ͅE̵̖̫͔̖̪ͅR̘̼E͔̥͟ͅ ̷͔̠͓Y̠͍̩̘͎̪̜O͓͈͕U̮͓ ̜̣͕G̘̩̘̰̲O.”

Thomas glowered.

He didn’t have much of a choice. He took one. “Thank you, oh Guardian of Dreams.” Everyone was still staring. “Much appreciated.”

The Master of Ceremonies cleared his throat, and was also offered the jar with cough drops.

“Ah, er, my most sincere gratitude… My Lord Alcor, we have gathered here today to -”

Thomas let the words drift past him. So much flattery and promises and salutation, sheesh - no wonder Tyrone had a big head. Must be nice to be worshipped like that.

The dead calf was starting to smell - death loosened the bowels, and while the audience wouldn’t notice, Thomas was nearby enough for the scent of blood and other body fluids to turn his stomach. The sour tang of the lozenge didn't help much - he swallowed it.

He was suddenly glad he skipped dinner.

Hmpf. First Tyrone ate all the cereal, now his sacrifice was making Thomas nauseous. He just couldn’t catch a break, could he?

The actual deal-making part of the ceremony commenced. A handful lucky people had been pre-selected out of the audience to approach the stage, where they would explain their problem and Thomas would assist them in making a deal with Alcor. This was probably the main reason they'd asked him to fill in. Anyone could draw a circle, given enough time and a good example. Supervising demon deals was a different matter.

Not like they expected their god to screw them over, but well, in the heat of the moment people could make stupid offers and Alcor was still a demon after all. Best to have someone around who knew what he was doing, right?

Thomas was only supposed to step in if the person making the deal was unable to proceed - struck by Alcor's awesomeness, to  loosely paraphrase his aunt - or if they made some kind of mistake. He didn't expect the deals to handle very personal issues. You'd summon Alcor in a more private setting for that, wouldn't you?

A newly-wed couple was up first.

"Bright One, we ask for your blessing." The man's voice trembled a bit. "In return we will sacrifice ten chickens to you, before the next full -"

"Wait a minute," Thomas had to interrupt. "His ' _blessing'_? That sounds horribly vague. What exactly is it you want to achieve here?"

The young man stared at him in confusion. His wife hesitated. "Er... good luck, I guess. With our marriage?"

"Good luck? Do you mean the 'I want to win the state lottery' or the 'I hope it doesn't rain during the barbecue' kind of luck?"

"The- the second? I guess?"

"First would be nice too," the man admitted.

"Well, basic 'good luck' isn't worth ten chickens," Thomas argued. "You don't need to bother with so many living sacrifices. That’s way overpriced."

"A̸̪̺͎̘̩͛͂H̺ͣ̿Ȇ͌ͥ̊̋͑ͫ҉̭̖̙̹M͔̘͓͎̯̱͖̱̼̽͋."

They turned to Alcor, who was floating with his hands on his hips.

"AR̭̗̱̜Ȩ ̩̘͈͚̥͉Ỳ̹̣͉̣OṲ̘̜̗͝ ͎̰͕GO̝͉I͇̱̻̜̬̙͉N̥͕̘͓G̩̤̳ ̣͚̣͞T͉̫Ò̫̱ ̣̼̞H̘̺̟̰͉A̩̪͟G͈͍̜͙̻̀G͇̯̖̭̣͉L̙̖͎̪̪͔E̶̹̝̥?̨̯̝̩͉̯ R̺̙̼̲̩̳͛ͨ̇̾̊ͬË̫̻͇̒Ȧ̵̟͇̘̩̞͔̮̓̉ͫ͊̑L̟̩̠̻̠ͪ͠L͔̳̮̼̗̏̏̐ͫͨͅY̡̯̫̟̖ͥ̄̈̍̈?̳̟̖̰̓̽̾ͬ͡ H̘͈͚͖̭̹̭ͥ͐̄̓E͔̫̦͎̻ͬ̽ͦ̀ͬ̄͗R͍͕͍̉̍̍ͣͧͣ̍͟E̖̱͓̬̩̾ͥ͋̉̿̇̿ ͇̰̦̠̆̽̊ͯ͋͌̌A̬̕N̬͉͉̝̻͈͟D̛͒̈ͩ ̰͕͍̼͕̼̹Ń̴̻̗̳̺ͥͨ̃O̲̭̹̺͓ͭ͋̒ͨ̾Ẅ̞̗̝̘͈͍̻́͆̎͂͑̋͝?̥̜̬̥͓̹ͯ̓̍ͧ̾ͧ"

"Why?" Thomas said. "Is there a problem?"

"W̛̩͎H͎̟̙̲̲͍È̫͍̝RͅE ͖̳̤̲̜I͏S̱͍̩̫̱̺ ͉̯T͍̯̤H͈͍E̠̮̝̪̮͜ ҉̖̩̱̗̦D̵͎̪̞̜E͕͉V̬̣̰̳͕͖͉O̬͕͖͚̹̙̟T̠̠̝̦͇̹ͅI̭̪̥̫̤̻O̭N̦?̥̪"

"Must have left it in my other pocket, oh Great and Powerful Alcor. So - basic 'good luck' in exchange for, let's say, three fresh or store-bought chickens, whichever is cheapest. Deal or no deal?"

" I̹͚̹̟ ͇̠̞ṬH͝I̳͝N̴̻̖͇̘̞͍̖K̜̼͚͓̬̞̹ ̖͎͚̺̩̭I̗̦͖͎̮͓ ͔̱͈S̢̺͈̜̜̙E̛̠̤͈N̻͈̘̹̜̜͡S͈̹̗̼̜̼Ḙ̼̮͇͇ ̨̤͉̗A̧ ̮̞Ǹ̝͖̼͍̰̖O̭̳̯̣̗͘N͉̩͉̩̜̼͝-͙͈̹͈̯BE̞̖̪͢L̢͙̭̙I͓͔̜͎̻̱͡É͍̜͕͍V̗͙͎̱̤͢Ẹ̤̼̜̮R̵̮͍̝," Alcor said, amusement in his voice. "Y̹͔O̮U͈͕̱͚ͅ'̲͙̣̀R͕E̶̫ ̻B̸͎EI̟̩̺̻̘̗͍͡N҉̝̤̥̱̬G̦͖̳̱ͅ V̞̳̠̪̩͉́ͅẸ̵̦̠̬Ṟ̨̥̬͉̘Y͏͍̹͙̪ͅ ̛̰̤̬͙D̷̘̺͉̼͎̮̗I̬̦̹̪̮FF̶̯̳IC̣̤U̩̦̝͉͓ͅL͕̰̗T.̱̼̱͔͙̫̘͠"

"You know what's _difficult_? Putting the milk into the fridge, apparently." Thomas narrowed his eyes. "For some reason my roommate never manages it. It goes sour if it's left out of the fridge too long, you know."

"A͈̗̲̱͈͚ ̺̹͔̹̱F̢̭͈̗͙͈̟͖E̯̩̦̯̞ͅW̙͖̯ ̵͎͚̼H̠̯O̘͓͘U̠̞͙̤RS̡ ̶̻̝̫̩̭̼̭W̪I̶͍̟Ḷ͖L̠̱͕̯͍̩ ̨̗H͇̜̝A͉̫̭͍͖͍̤Ŕ͇̼̰͈D̠LY̛ ̪͚M̻A̟K͇͍̬̰E̱͔̙̖ ͕͙̠̰̱̝͎͘A͈̗ ̳̕D͔̦̮͡I̙̣̱͈̹̖̬FF͏̜̣̭E̫̣̥̦͠R̩͔̯͓̫͈͎E͖̙̲͙N̠͎̳͍͞C̴̦̲E̗.̳̹̰"

"It's the principle of the thing. And I like _cold_ milk on my cereal. When there _is_ cereal and not just an empty box, of course. Who puts an empty cardboard box back into the cupboard? Instead of, I don't know _, throwing it away._ "

"M͓̼͟A̧̲̘̼̯Y̳̟B̲̖E̛̖̺͙̮͓ ̵͔̮̣̥̬̰̝Y̟̱̥̩O͡U̫͚͓̞̯͚̗R ̹͓̙̗̼R̼̰O̮͍͘O̖̖̞M̜̣̝̦̺̮̞M͓A҉͔̗̜͇̜̖͍Ṭ͚͇͚̗̬̝E̶ ͏W͈͈͔A̛̜̫S̖̠ ̙̪TO̺̤̩̜O̗̤͎ ̡̯̦̻͚̤͕B̤͉̰̼̻͓U̞̻̤͓̩̤̫S̘̜̝̼ͅY̛̤̣̗͖̼ ͕̱T͓O̭̫̠͈̠͈̻ ̲̤̺̪ͅT̥͡H̪̱͕R͇̮͖̖O̢̭W͈̥̘͇̹ ̡̙̭̠̜͕I̷̥͎̥̣̣T̗ ͈̩͕̺͍A͏̙W̷͎͕A̭̝̹Y̗͖̞̼͠?̖"

"Not too busy to put it back in the cupboard."

"P͉͙͔̻E̩̼̱̠̼R͉̻HA͏̻̻P̸̱S̮̼͔̱̘ ̶̩̲͍H͖̻̩͔̹̼͢E̜̗̤̖̖̠͠ ͠C̦̹̼͉̜̀O̫͚͇̘͎͖ͅN̹͈̦̗S̢̹I̛D̶E̗̥̖͖̦R̦Ẹ̼͇̹D҉̙̠ I͖͙T̪̫͇͍͞ͅ ͏̞̩̩̻N͓̪̹̺̫͜O̯͔̖̟͜Ṯ̲͖ CỌ̩̼̼͠M̧P̷̘̫Ļ͙̻̻E͏̪̺̗͈̱̠Ṭ͢E̖̦L͚̟̮̲̹͓̘Y̨̭̪̘ ̝͟E̖̞͚̰͕͟M̨PT̮Y̬͈̥̙ ̡YE͉̘͚̳̤̙͢T.̯̫̟̳̮̩͕"

Thomas met Alcor glare for glare. "A handful of crumbs? Wouldn't _you_ call that 'empty'?"

"MA̡̬̰̹ͅY͜B͓̲̣͚̤̹E͢ H̡E̛̼̩͕̫ ̴̰ͅW̥͕̟͙͇̘̺A̮S͖͠ ̷̙̘P̶͇̤̗͈̮͈L̩̘̙̳̲͓̖A͙͈͙͙̤͉͙N̬̯̯̪̳͟N͖̠I̡͙̲̱Ṉ̳̺͔̖̮͡G̲̜͡ ̧̲̗̺T̫̮Ò̤̻ ̱͓̱̭̫͖̪͜R̨̗̬̗̥E̥͍ͅP̦͓L̢̪̲̫̗A̜̹̺̰̺C̮͖̙̗͔̲E ̭̼̫̮͙̣ͅT͏͎͎H̲̘͈̩̞͜Ȩ͔̻̯̠ ̲̪͚͍͉̹Ć̳͉̝̟͕̝E͍̣͕̖̬̪͉R̨̙E̙͢A̬̰̰L̢͕̗̦̬̟̻,̹̼"Alcor said. "B͈̠̤U͕̤̳̬̲Ṭ̛̰̪̞̖͖ ̲̹̟̜GO͈̫͈̲T̮̙̳̱͢ ̨̙͙̱C̥̝̜͙͝A͖͖͍̹͜Ḽ͚̯̲̝͉L̜̰͓̼E̦͓̗̭ͅD͈͞ ̖͕͓̙͙̩ͅA̮͎̫̬W̟A̘̝̬̘̫͡Y͍͇ ͎̝̙͚̲U̼͇Ń͈̙̼E̩̞X͓̲͉̤̠̜P̭̩̱̬E̶͇̲C̱͔̗T̸̗̖̪E̙̼̰͉̭ͅD͎͔̤̯̯͉L͓Ỵ͈̪̻̤̤͇͜.͟ Ḓ̻̟̖̀I̻͜D͓̭̫̟̮͔̠ ̛̟̠Y͖̳̭OU̺̦͍͍̳͔̤ ̖̭̳͙T̳̝͖̺͟H̞̩̖̙̥I̙̻̮̳N͚̹̗̘̭̯K̵͎̠̺̖͉̻̞ O̳̝̙̯̯ͅF̩̫͚̣ ͈͕̼͍͓̹̗͘T͍̗̫̬̝͙̩H̤͚̻A͖̟̲T̙̠͍̣̦?̖"

"Still doesn't explain why my roommate would put the _empty_ box back, though!"

Someone tapped on his shoulder to catch his attention. It was the Master of Ceremonies, wide-eyed and mortified.

Thomas became aware of four thousand confused, slightly terrified faces, all watching him yell at their god.

Oh. Right.

The audience.

God damnit.

"I'll take over from here," the Master of Ceremonies muttered in his ear. "Please just... go."

* * *

 

Embarrassment and anger mingled together into a nauseating mix. Thomas lay sprawled on the gleaming counter, staring at the ceiling. The ornate robes were folded into a makeshift pillow.

He'd gone to the backstage kitchens because... well. That's where he automatically gravitated whenever he was upset.

These were unused. The catering company had brought everything ready-made and taken their dirty dishes with them when they left.

A big empty room, white and tiled and cold. But calm. Even soothing, in a lonely, sterile way.

He'd made such an ass of himself back there.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Thomas closed his eyes for a moment.

Aunt Claire approached the kitchen counter.

"Want to tell me what that was all about?" she said.

"Not really," Thomas answered honestly.

"That's not good enough, Tommie. You went off the rails entirely. Is that how you usually deal with demons? If so, I worry for you."

"Alcor is a special case."

"That he is," Aunt Claire agreed. "You may not like the Dreambender that much, but downstairs are a lot of people who really looked forward to seeing Him."

Great. A guilt trip.

Not like he didn't deserve it. He did kind of ruin the evening for four thousand people.

"Now are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Annoyance slipped into her voice. "For Star's sake, Thomas, you're twenty-eight, get off the kitchen counter and face me like an adult."

He didn't want to.

But she did have a point.

He sighed and did as she asked. "I should probably apologize for tonight."

"Yes, you should," she agreed. "I thought you would be more professional than this."

Ouch. That stung.

The air above the kitchen counter rippled. Thomas knew what was coming and rolled his eyes, but his aunt jumped backwards as the empty space was suddenly full of Tyrone, still winged and suited up.

"H̋ͭȅͨ̆y̸ Thomas! First off, thanks for wa̕r͢ni͘ng ͞m̨e you were replacing the Circle leader, you could have sent me a text or something," Tyrone said. "I was all confused for a minute there."

"You're omniscient."

"It doesn't w͡ork ̨l͟įkę t̡hat and you know it. And second: what was that yelling all about? The mi͝l̢k? C͌̋͡e͌re͐ͮ̓̊a̎̽͗̚l̂͡? You never care about stuff like that! And now you're yelling at me? I don't deserve that."

"You don't deserve that, huh?" Thomas repeated. "What, are you going to claim you _weren't_ the one leaving crumbs all over the kitchen table?"

Tyrone rolled his eyes. “Really? _That’s_ what bothers you?”

“I can live with the occasional invasion into my dreams because you’re bored at night, and the unasked nightmare-eating, and you trying to weasel out of totally fair deals, and those creepy episodes you get sometimes,” Thomas said. “That’s unavoidable, I get it! You can’t help you were born a demon. That does _not_ excuse you being an inconsiderate roommate! Waking up to find my kitchen a mess and my cupboards empty - I’m tired of putting up with stuff like that, Tyrone!”

“Hey now, we have an unspoken deal about that,” Tyrone protested. “Don’t go back on it now.”

“That has to be _very_ ‘unspoken’, because I don’t remember ever making a deal like that!”

“Sure you do, that’s when you got Rainbow Basher.” The demon shrugged. “You get to borrow her as a thank you for putting up with me. That implies -”

Oh Tyrone _had_ to be kidding him!

“Seriously?” Thomas said. “Deals aren’t deals if both sides aren’t aware they’re making one - you know what, I give up.” He searched his pants' pocket, found what he was looking for and ripped the car key from his keychain. “Here, have the key. That’s it, I'm done. Deal's over.”

Tyrone made no move to take the key from him, so Thomas dropped it on the kitchen counter.

“Oh cò͠m̨͢e ̨͞o͢n!” Tyrone said. “Don’t do this. How are you getting home then?”

“I’ll **_walk_**!”

“You’re _way_ overreacting right now."

"Maybe I am!" Thomas said. He was being childish and he didn't care. "Maybe I'm overdue some overreacting!"

"Could you just calm down?" Tyrone folded his legs underneath him, still floating. His voice sounded exasperated. "I'm trying to find out what the problem is but I can't if you won't tell me. _Please_ , Thomas? Help me understand what I did wrong?"

It was the 'please' that did it. Thomas was all geared up for an argument - the expression of honest concern threw him off.

"... you always leave a mess behind," he said. "Especially in the kitchen. Crumbs, empty wrappers, dirty dishes."

Stars, it sounded so silly and stupid when he said it. Bit ridiculous to fight about this. But... it had been going on for _years_ now. Enough was enough, damnit.

"And another thing! I don't mind you occasionally raiding my cupboards and fridge but you could leave some for me too, you know? And it would be nice if you'd pitch in with the grocery bill sometimes. Or vacuum the apartment once in a while. Or magic it clean, whatever. You spend nearly as much time in there as I do, you could at least help to keep the place habitable."

Tyrone seemed taken aback. "I didn't know this bothered you so much."

"Seriously? Why did you think I left all those notes around?"

"You mean those post-its about the growth curve of mold on dirty dishes, and the story of how ancient cultures invented yoghurt?"

"Obviously!"

"Thomas... _No one_ would have gotten that."

All-knowing demon, hello! "Again, you're -"

"Please don't say 'omniscient' again," Tyrone interrupted him.

"Yeah, 'it doesn't work like that', fine, whatever." Thomas made a face. "But I did expect you to catch on eventually."

"How about next time, you _tell_ me when I do something you find annoying? _Before_ you explode in front of an entire congregation of my cultists?"

Thomas made a face. He had a point. "Yeah. Okay. I'll let you know. We're going to set some basic rules though."

"Okay."

"Sometimes, you will _have_ to do the dishes."

"... fine."

"And clean up when you finish eating. If you want the perks of being a roommate, you have to accept the responsibilities too. Instead of acting like you're a guest and leaving me with the mess."

Tyrone gave him a shark-toothed grin. "So you still want me as a roommate?"

"Why? Are you offering to go halfies on the rent?"

"Ha! No, but... I wasn't really sure I'd be welcome anymore." Tyrone dropped down on the counter, his wings half-curled around him.

Aw, man. There came the guilt. An extra-large helping of it.

"Of course you're still welcome, you dork," Thomas said. With a little jump he was sitting on the counter too, next to Tyrone. "I'm sorry. I did overreact. This stuff shouldn't bother me as much as it does, I feel ridiculous now... I made a huge ass of myself and you're right, you didn't deserve that."

"I didn't annoy you on purpose."

"I know."

"This time, at least."

Thomas cracked a smile. "Yeah, there's plenty of other times you get to annoy me. I _can_ take a joke."

"But not a dirty kitchen," Tyrone said, quietly. "That's a horrible crime no one should ever commit, lest they face your wrath."

"... are you making fun of me? Okay. I guess I deserve that."

There was a short silence. The air seemed to be easier to breathe now. Lighter, perhaps. Shoulders muscles kept tense all day finally managed to unclench.

“I'm sorry for ruining your solstice celebration," Thomas added, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

Tyrone shrugged. “Eh, it was pretty funny in hindsight. All those confused faces. Spices things up a bit.”

"I'm never going to be invited to fill in for their summoner ever again, am I?"

"Did you want to?"

"Nah, I'm not really the cultist type." Thomas sighed. "Any chance you'll erase all their memories of my horrible performance tonight?"

"Depends on your offer... Hey, isn't that your aunt passed out on the floor?"

* * *

 

Rain pattered on the window panes. The day after the summer solstice was a grey one, but Thomas didn't mind. The weather was perfect for cuddling on the couch with Elisha, watching those romantic movies she liked.

This was nice.

 _Life_ was nice, actually. He shouldn't stress so much about the little things.

“I had that talk with Tyrone, about being a better roommate,” he said, when they were waiting for the movie to load.

“Oh? That’s great.”

“... with about four thousand people listening in.”

Elisha blinked. “You’re joking.”

“I wish. Long story short, he promised to be more considerate and I’ve promised to never go to a Circle ceremony ever again.”

"I'm... glad it worked out in the end?" She smiled. "You always get into the strangest situations, Thomas."

"Yeah, well, 'strange' is my name after all."

"So is your sense of humor," she teased. She gave him a peck on the cheek and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Thomas?" her voice rang out, a few minutes later. "Why is there a dead calf stuffed into your fridge?"

A dead calf? Tyrone wouldn't -?

Of _course_ he would.

Thomas had to admit it: when Tyrone bartered for unrestricted access to the fridge, this wasn't what he had in mind.

Oh well.

"Because my best friend is a _demon_ , that's why."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My I-spent-way-too-much-time-on-this-and-it's-probably-still-completely-wrong Latin is supposed to translate to this: _Dreamers' Star, our guide at night, we welcome you. May the Beast be chained and your light shine brightly. Fair and kind, powerful and bright. We are yours. You are ours. The Circle will embrace you._


	10. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The empty air between her and the television was suddenly full of demon and it was only years of experience that stopped her from throwing her tablet at its head and drawing her spray can with holy water.  
> "What are you doing here?" she said, keeping her face calm even as her heart pounded from the sudden scare. "I told you not to show up uninvited."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, it's been a while hasn't it? I'm still alive! I got sidetracked by some stuff and the Perfectionism Bug bit me, so now I have like 6 half-finished fics lying around. I decided it was time to start finishing them. 
> 
> It's not exactly what I wanted it to be, but I can either keep staring and tweaking it for months or finally post it, so... have this thing!
> 
> You may remember Vincent from chapter 5.

The television played some mindless comedy show. In the background her aquarium made a soothing bubbling sound.

Elisabeth was curled up on the couch, snug under a fleece blanket. Her eyes were glued to the screen of her tablet computer, a reading program opened up. Romantic science fiction was an underrated genre, really.

A quiet evening at home.

Peaceful.

"H̢̙̫̻̮E͈̱̮̰̳͡Y͢ ̖͙̗͚͙A̘̦̞ͅD̟̮̻͡A͇̠̠̱̫̬̱͞M̶͓̰̪̪S͙̦̹̕."

The empty air between her and the television was suddenly full of demon and it was only _years_ of experience that stopped her from throwing her tablet at its head and drawing her spray can with holy water.

"What are you doing here?" she said, keeping her face calm even as her heart pounded from the sudden scare. "I told you not to show up uninvited."

Alcor sighed and flopped down into the other armchair. "It's date night."

Stay calm. Stay cool. This couldn't be what it sounded like. She had _not_ fallen into any creepy glowing portals and ended up in the Twin Souls universe.

Probably.

He looked at her. She looked at him.

He idly adjusted his tie.

She settled for a flat: "What."

"Date night," he repeated, his expression resigned. "I'm not allowed to hang around the apartment during date night, and I can't follow them around because that'd be _weird_ and I really have to stay away until tomorrow morning or Thomas will kill me. Well, not _literally_ , but he'll give me that look of his. And Elisha _will_ mace me. Again."

She dared to breathe again.

Thank god. Her romantic life was exactly what she wanted it to be - non-existent - and she was not going to change that for anyone, least of all this stalker of a demon. So that was a relief at least. Though it was a bit surprising to hear that annoying know-it-all Strange had gotten a date. Maybe pigs did fly.

"Isn't there someone else you can bother?"

He made a face. "Everyone's busy."

Everyone? Was she really supposed to believe that in this entire world, Alcor the Dreambender couldn't find anyone else to annoy?

He draped himself over the arm rests, seemingly boneless. "I'm bored."

"And how, exactly, is that my problem?" she asked, pointedly flipping to the next page of her novel.

Alcor was now stretched over the chair upside down, like a particulary weird throw blanket. His hat defied gravity as usual, the top of it bobbing against the floor.

"So b͏̠̘oọoo͍̱̯̭̩o̕r̛̭͓̤e̦̹͙͚͝ͅd̛."

A few minutes went by, the silence broken by Alcor's sighs. Elisabeth realised she'd been trying to read the same sentence five times.

Damn it... he was not going to leave, was he?

"Haven't you got any summonings to attend?" she tried, closing the reading app because it was a lost cause anyway.

He shrugged, still upside-down. "I'm ignoring them. Don't feel like it. Can't we go on a monster hunt? We haven't been on one since that Grinch thing."

"Don't-remind-me-of-the-Grinch-thing," she said, cheeks flaming. That hadn't happened. Anyone who claimed differently was remembering wrong. "And I'm not working tonight... So you can just ignore summonings like that?"

Alcor shrugged again. "Sometimes."

"Because you're powerful?"

"Maybe."

She gave him an unimpressed look. "You're being vague on purpose."

"And you're trying to weasel information out of me without a deal," he grinned. "Want to make one?"

"No. I don't care that much," she said. His face fell and he sighed again.

Bored demon. In her room. That couldn't be a good thing. How to get rid of him?

He was looking around the apartment now, making silly faces at her fish, rifling through her book shelf. She preferred to read on her tablet, so the shelf held mostly magazines and a few demonology texts that were too risky to convert to a digital copy. 

Oh god. She did own physical copies of _one_ book series...

"Right," she said matter-of-factly, catching Alcor's attention before his idle browsing led him too far. "Let's go out."

"Out?" he blinked.

"Out," she confirmed.

"Alright!" he cheered, and jumped up, safely away from the discreet black spines with golden lettering on the edge of the shelf. "Where do you want to go?"

"You pick something," she said. "I reserve the right to veto anything, though."

Not the movies, and not a restaurant or a bar - she didn't want to give him the wrong impression. Ugh. Where _could_ you take a bored and lonely demon?

"Aw, man," Alcor groaned suddenly. "Some people just can't take no for an answer."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm getting summoned - again." He frowned for a second, then shrugged and offered her a non-flaming hand.

She eyed it with distrust.

"Are you coming?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"It's not going to be dangerous," the demon added, blinking innocently. "Promise! I recognize this soul, he's harmless."

"He summons demons. That's not harmless."

Alcor grinned. "Pot, kettle."

"Shut up." She took a deep breath and got up from her armchair. The fleecy blanket was abandoned on the seat. "Fine. We're doing this."

"Aren't you being dramatic."

"Shut up," she repeated, looking for her shoes. She couldn't show up for a summons wearing fluffy slippers, could she? "Why am I even doing this? I must have lost my mind."

"Or you're secretly lonely," Alcor said.

She glared at him. But she still took his hand.

The world turned weird and bright for a second. She was suddenly standing in a rundown, messy room. The walls were coated in graffiti, the ceiling was spotted with mold. The summoning circle was drawn with care, but clearly by a non-professional - or perhaps the uneven wooden floor was to blame for the wonky chalk lines.

"Oh!" a voice exclaimed, and she turned to Alcor's summoner. It was a spindly man, dressed in a business suit that didn't fit him very well. The cuffs were stained with chalk.

He dropped the slip of paper in his hand on the ground and hurriedly took something from the table behind him.

Was... was that a _banjo?_ She hadn't entirely known what to expect, tagging along with Alcor like this... but this?

The man played his banjo at them. She could only stare, bewildered, until he finally stopped.

"So... this happens often to you?"

Alcor facepalmed.

"I learned to play the banjo! Just like we agreed," the man beamed nervously. "Er, I'm sorry, I only expected the Dreambender - are you a demon too?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "I'm just... observing."

He stared at her for a second or two, before apparently deciding to ignore her. "Oh great and powerful Dreambender, as you can see I have fulfilled the terms you set in our previous deal."

"I can see you learned to play, sure," Alcor said. He shook his head. "What do you want this time, Vincent? Not money again, I hope."

"Well, er..."

"Let me get this straight," she interrupted, because this couldn't be right. "Your asked for money, and in return you... had to play the banjo?"

"And I gave him a sandwich," the guy, Vincent, added helpfully.

A sandwich. Elisabeth shook her head. "You really make the _oddest_ deals."

"It was a pretty good sandwich," Alcor said, a faint tinge of red on his cheeks. Was he embarrassed? He should be! This deal was ridiculous. "The money was just a loan, too."

"Ah, er, yes," Vincent said. "About that... I've got the money right here. You did mention I wasn't allowed to summon you again until I could pay you back."

"Really?" Alcor seemed surprised. "Your invention was a succes? Seriously?"

"No, no, the world wasn't ready for left-handed socks," Vincent said. "Or for smart diapers either, you'd think mothers would _like_ an automatic message whenever their baby's diaper was soiled, right? They didn't."

While he was speaking, he'd taken a suitcase from underneath the table. He flipped it open.

"Ten thousand," he said, a tinge of desperation in his voice. "Exactly what I owed you. My part of the deal is fulfilled now, so... can we make a new one? Pretty please."

Alcor rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You _do_ need money again, don't you."

"Well..."

"How much this time?"

"The thing is, I'm really on to something. I figured out what my problem is - I need more exposure." He smiled wildly. "Better marketing skills, less headaches about funding. Listen, I don't have much to offer - as you can see my accomodations haven't improved lately, I sunk quite a lot of money into those diapers - but there must be something I've got that's worth a decent deal. And my offer of last time is still on the table, I mean, it's not like I'm using my soul for anything -"

"Oh my god you've got to be joking," Elisabeth interrupted him. Alcor raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't look at me like that. If you don't want me to say anything, you shouldn't have brought me here."

"You have a point there," he said. He made a sweeping gesture toward Vincent. "Go on, preach away. I know you want to."

Excuse me? She did not _preach_. But this guy really needed a lesson in basic demonology.

"Listen carefully," she said, to the confused man. "There are plenty of things you can offer when making a demon deal. It doesn't even have to be a material thing. There are people who trade their eyesight for a month, or precious childhood memories, things like that. You could promise not to invent anything for a year, for instance. It's all about the sacrifice."

He looked like she'd suggested he'd swallow a live eel. "I can't sacrifice my inventive spirit, I need that to make a living!"

"And you think you'll be fine without a soul then?" If sarcasm was a liquid the words would've been dripping.

"I'm not stupid," the inventor said. "I was going to specify he could only take it on my deathbed, of course."

"Yes, because that doesn't have a huge and obvious loophole."

"Hmpf! What would a young lady like you know about demon deals? Who are you even?"

"I know more about them than you do, clearly!"

Alcor picked this moment to but in. "I don't want to interrupt this fascinating conversation, but I am getting hungry. What exactly do you want, Vincent? We need to know that before we settle on the price."

Vincent took a deep breath, focussing on Alcor again. "I want you to make me famous."

Loophole.

"You could make a really famous corpse," Elisabeth said. "Really gruesome murders make the headlines too."

"Alright, fine, make me rich and famous then!" Vincent said. "Tell me the winning lottery numbers."

"I see at _least_ two loopholes there," she said. "He can give you the winning lottery numbers of last night. Or let you win - but not the big jackpot."

"There are more, but well spotted," Alcor grinned. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

She made a face at him. Vincent was frowning.

"Are you an intern?" he asked. "Is that why you're 'observing'? Alcor is teaching you?"

"What? No! I'm human, you idiot!"

Alcor sneaked an arm over her shoulders, grinning widely. "Let go of your anger, my padawan. Anger leads to the Dark Side."

She shot him a glare. "Is that another centuries-old nerd reference I can't possibly understand?"

"... maybe."

"But if you're not a demon... Why would a human accompany the Dreambender like this?" Vincent said, seemingly to himself. His eyes suddenly widened. "Unless -"

"Don't. Even. Think it," she growled, before he could finish that sentence.

Alcor patted her shoulder. "Relax, sweetie," he said. "Just let me do my job now, okay?"

That damned demon. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you."

"I have no idea what you mean, Lizzie dear." He turned back to Vincent. "So, what's it going to be? Winning lottery numbers?"

"Actually, now I think about it -" Vincent was interrupted again, this time by a sudden noise from the table. It was the banjo, even though no one was playing it.

"Oops," the inventor said.

"Did you enchant this to play for you?" Alcor gestured at the banjo. "You _didn't_ fulfill the t͎̙͝e̵͍͉̬̩̲̰r̦ms ̥̟̰͈̞̩͢o̙̞̼f̩ ̟o͚̣̙̟͔͚͢ͅu͖̼r̶̳̣̳̗̦ ḓ̲͎̦ȩ̰a̧l̹͈̹͞?͙"

Elisabeth took it from the table and inspected the strings. They kept playing itself. There were no mechanical bits to be seen, though she could spot some weird and rather irregular runes etched carefully in the wood.

"Er, well, not exactly?" Vincent said, backing away slightly at Alcors golden glare. "I mean, I did enchant it to play for me. That was my first plan. But I ended up having to learn how to play anyway, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to enchant it like this, so..."

"I've never seen runes like this," Elisabeth said. "What dialect is it?"

"Oh, I made those up," Vincent said. He blinked innocently as they both stared at him. "What? It's not like it's difficult. It's just lines and squiggles."

"Magic doesn't work like that. You can't just make stuff up!" Elisabeth said. "You invented a freaking runic language! And it works!"

"Oh. Is that a good thing?"

Alcor sighed. "Looks like I'm out of a deal, tonight." He offered Elisabeth his hand again. "Pizza or hamburgers? I'm craving fast food and a movie."

"You can't just _leave_ ," Vincent sputtered. "We haven't made a deal yet."

Elisabeth shook her head at him. "You don't need one. Just show your banjo to some runic expert. You _idiot_."

"Yeah, what she said," Alcor grinned. "Good luck, buddy!"

She took his hand and the world shifted away.

* * *

 

Midnight found them both in her apartment, empty burger wrappers spread across the coffee table. The television played some ridiculous ancient movie about space magicians. It wasn't her genre at all, but...

Alcor was lounging in the armchair. He'd ditched his tailored suit for a cosy, oversized and extremely fluffy sweater. His eyes were glued to the movie, black and golden and demonic.

She probably should be more scared than she was, right now. Oh well. She'd survived entertaining a demon for the evening . It had actually been fun, in a way. Surprisingly so.

"I'm on to you, you know," she said quietly.

He looked up, just as the princess of the movie gave the hero a slap. He didn't say anything, just lifted a brow.

"Was there really no one else to entertain you?"

He shrugged. Since he was lying upside down again, it looked really odd.

"I'm not lonely," she said. "I may not have a swarm of friends like some people, but I'm _not_ lonely."

A slow nod. "Okay."

Good. He needed to know that. She enjoyed being alone. Most of the time. Less distractions, at least.

She hesitated a moment. "But... this was nice. Tonight, I mean. It was definitely interesting. And that movie is extremely old and rather stupid, but I still had fun. I mean. This wasn't so bad."

He returned her smile. "Yeah. We should do this again sometime."

"If I'm not busy with more important things, of course."

"Of course. Maybe next date night?"

"... on one condition."

"Which is?"

"We're _not_ calling it date night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next updates should be a bit quicker!


	11. No Backsies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giving Tyrone fridge access was a bad idea from the start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several people wondered why Thomas gave Dipper unrestricted fridge access in [The Little Things](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7167431/chapters/18445144). Well...

The fridge door creaked open.

"Thomas? Come see this."

Oh boy. That was the tone of voice of someone holding on to patience with their fingernails and it was never a good sign. Thomas got up from his desk, taking care to put a cap on his special pen to prevent the blood from clotting. The demon Hicks wanted to summon tomorrow only took contracts written in blood. Talk about old-fashioned...

Elisha stood in the kitchen, her slice of bread abandoned on the counter. She gestured to the open fridge.

Thomas took a look at its contents and groaned. Ever since that deal with Tyrone it seemed larger on the inside than the outside, which was fine and very useful. And yet it still overflowed today, their groceries crammed into one side as the bulk of it was taken up by... Tyrone's stuff.

Usually it was food. Or at least edible. There was the occassional dead animal, but Tyrone had actually been very good at keeping those in a closed bag, ever since that time when Thomas had gotten up for a midnight snack and suddenly found the bulbous and glazed eyes from a cow's head staring back at him. He may have screamed a little.

At least there hadn't been anything creepier, like severed human hands or something. When sharing fridge space with a demon, you had to be ready for anything.

Most of the time it wasn't any worse than sharing a fridge with, say, a slob like Maria. Sometimes though...

"Thomas, why are there tennis balls inside the fridge?"

"Tyrone," he said. "He fries them."

"Excuse me?"

"He coats them in doughnut batter and fries them. Apparently they're delicious with chocolate sauce."

"Of course they are," Elisha muttered, exasperated. "Doesn't that stink horribly?"

"You may have wondered why I keep my deep fryer in a warded cabinet."

"Ah."

"One time Eddy had a cold and completely missed the stench. He accidentally bit into one. You should have seen his face."

"I can imagine," she smiled. "But jokes aside, this is getting ridiculous."

"You may have a point there," Thomas said. "But I made a deal, so I can't really forbid him from using the fridge. Even if he puts dumb things in there."

As they watched, another tennis ball popped into existence, shoving the package of cheese slices to the side and tipping over the jar of pickles.

Elisha caught it before it rolled out of the fridge and gave him a meaningful look.

"Right," Thomas said. "I'll... talk to Tyrone."

"Please do."

* * *

 

"Burger and fries, food of the gods," Eduardo said, as they carried their trays to an empty table. The McMickey's was packed at this time of the day, but Tyrone managed to get them a window seat.

"Brad is running late," Thomas said. "Did anyone remember to get salt? Thanks Tyrone."

"I got a tiny hoverboard," Eduardo cheered, opening up his kiddy meal.

Tyrone unwrapped his own plastic toy. "A Burger Murderer figurine. Eddy, wanna trade?"

"I've got an actual adult's meal," Thomas said. "How old are you guys again?"

Eduardo shrugged. "You're never to old to enjoy toys."

Thomas laughed, but the other two didn't seem to get the joke. Of course they didn't. Where was Maria when you needed her?

Tyrone surreptitiously snapped his fingers and the plastic figurine on his tray shifted into a copy of the little hoverboard Eddy got. Clearly the best use of his amazing demonic powers...

Through the window they could see a fancy sports car park across the street. It was hard to miss, with that color.

"Heya Brad," Eddy said, when Brad took the remaining empty seat at their table. He took his Kiddie Box from the tray and offered the other meal to Brad. "Nice ride."

"It's alright," Brad said, throwing his tie over his shoulder to avoid getting it greasy. "I borrowed it from dad's collection. My new car had... an accident."

Thomas flushed. "To my defense, Elisha warned you about parking there."

"I didn't know she was serious!"

"She rarely isn't, when it's about the Car."

"At least Rainbow Basher is well-behaved," Tyrone said, his expression a bit too smug for someone holding a plastic kid's toy.

Thomas wisely didn't comment. Rainbow didn't destroy sports' cars, fortunately, but her tendency to disappear and come back covered in blood...  the neighbours were starting to give him odd looks.

"So what's up with the fancy get-up?" Eduardo asked, nodding at Brad. "Are you cosplaying again?"

"Huh? This suit is way too classy to be a cosplay outfit," Brad said. "Uh, no offence, Tyrone - don't mean to imply you dress badly, but, well, you know... No, I'm on my lunch break, actually. I'm interning at Dad's company."

"Yay for nepotism, I guess," Thomas said.

"Hey, I need to prepare for my future."

"So what kind of work do you actually have to do?"

Brad swallowed the bite he'd taken from his burger and shrugged. "Right now I'm just observing. Getting to know the company, attending meetings and such. It may not sound like a lot of work, but it's not all just trying to stay awake and drinking coffee."

"It isn't?"

"Nope." He smiled. "Sometimes we have scotch."

"I want to hit you," Thomas sighed. Must be nice to be filthy rich. Meetings with Hicks were fine, but when the other members of the University got involved they could become mind-numbingly tedious... Especially when the Cryptozoology department head got into another turf war with the Environmental Sciences professor about this tiny plot of land they both used for practical assignments. Apparently they had some old feud about rare butterflies being eaten by faeriebugs and expensive dragon-blessed water getting squandered to fill a tadpool pond.

"Sounds like a nice job," Eduardo said, apparently not noticing how Tyrone was stealing his fries.

"What can I say, it's a living," Brad said. "How's the job hunting going for you, Eddy?"

"Not that great, dude. The only one who returned my call was this autorepair shop who wanted a handyman. I don't even remember applying for that one - probably a mix-up. Or I'm going crazy," Eduardo added cheerfully. "Maybe I did apply for it and I lost my memory or something. Weirder things have happened, right?"

"I think a mix-up is more plausible," Thomas said, carefully.

"I can't picture you as a handyman," Brad said. "No offence, dude, but... you're not handy. At all."

"I know," Eduardo said. "I'll keep looking. Someone's got to need a demonologist, right? I'm not in a rush, really. I kinda like working at the gaming store and my supervisor is pretty cool."

"Still," Brad said. "You didn't get an university degree just to work in a shop."

"Says the person who never uses his degree for anything," Tyrone said.

"That isn't true. I summon you sometimes."

"Not that often, these days. Hey, we really should have another gaming marathon. That was fun!"

"We should," Brad agreed. "I'll look at my calendar - that reminds me, I have to take a raincheck on our poker night next Friday."

"Maria will have to find someone else to fleece then," Thomas sighed. "Probably me." He'd been on a loosing streak lately - ever since Elisha joined their games, actually. "It's not like you to cancel on such short notice, Brad. Don't abandon us now."

"Sorry," Brad said. "I'd rather be there, really. But I have to go to this charity thing - it's a bit of big deal. Lots of networking opportunities."

"What charity is it about?" Eduardo asked.

Brad blinked. "No clue."

"You don't even know?" Tyrone shook his head in disbelief. He'd stolen most of Eduardo's fries by now and was edging over to Thomas' tray. Thomas gave him a meaningful look and his thieving fingers withdrew.

"One charity is much like the other," Brad shrugged. "I think it's something medical? Some disease, perhaps. I think Dad said something about dentists? I know there are going to be other pharmaceutical companies there, alongside some politicians, lawyers - you know, regular guests to events like this."

"Dude," Eduardo said. "Dentists, lawyers _and_ politicians?"

"Are you sure it's a charity event and not a meeting of the League of Evil?" Tyrone teased.

"You should invite Tyrone," Thomas said. "A demon will fit right in with that crowd."

"That's uncalled for," Tyrone protested.

"Sorry."

"I'm not _that_ evil."

"I like my dentist," Eduardo said, a bit wistfully. "He always compliments me on my flossing technique."

"Laugh it up, guys," Brad said. "I'm actually tempted to ask you to come, Tyrone. It's going to be boring as hell."

"Pun intended?"

"Never!"

It was nice, just having lunch at a greasy burger restaurant like this. They used to spend all lunches this way, just joking around and waiting for class to start again. Everyone was so busy these days... Maria had even cancelled this lunch because she had to work. He kinda missed the carefree college days, even if at the time they had seemed like the most stressful of all.

Not that things were bad right now. Really, he couldn't complain about his life. Aside from some small annoyances, everything had turned out great.

Right, about those annoyances...

"By the way, Tyrone," he said. "Do you have a minute to talk business, after lunch? I want to talk about the possibility of annulling a deal."

"Sure," Tyrone said, looking interested. "What deal are you talking about?"

"Er... the one that gives you full access to my fridge."

"Dude!" Brad exclaimed. "You gave Tyrone full access? Why?"

"Four years of study, wasted," Eduardo said, shaking his head. "And you're supposed to be the smart one."

"I need to know," Brad said. "How did you talk him into this, Tyrone?"

"What can I say?" Tyrone grinned. "I'm just that good."

"Yeah, yeah," Thomas said, rolling his eyes. "So how about it? Are you open for negotiations or not?"

"Sure," Tyrone said. "I can annull that deal, no problem."

"Great, thanks -"

"That does mean _all_ of it, though."

Thomas paused.

The memory flashed through his head - his aunt lying passed out on the floor and Tyrone hovering above the kitchen counter in full demon mode. He wasn't sure when exactly she had fainted. Somewhere during his argument with Tyrone, in any case. Must be quite a shock to the system, learning your god was your nephew's mooching roommate.

It had been a spur of the moment thing, that deal. Unlimited fridge access had seemed like a small price to pay to remove everyone's memories of that painfully embarrassing night.

It wasn't only the embarrassment, though. If those Circle members realised how often their god hung around at his place... Who knew what they would do? Perhaps they'd be too careful to bother Tyrone too much, but could he risk it? For all he knew, he'd have to beat them off his front door with a stick.

Not to mention what his aunt would do. She would never be able to keep this quiet. It would only take a second for his parents to put two and two together and then they'd _know_.

They liked Tyrone. They thought he was odd, but they thought that about all his friends, and  when the monthly care package of baked goods arrived his mother always made sure to include some extra for 'his quirky roommate'.

Before leaving for college, Thomas had promised them he would never summon demons outside of work or school assignments. They worried for him. Understandable, of course - demonology was a risky business - but he'd hate to admit how quick he had been to break that promise.

By summoning Alcor. To bring back a soda flavor. Oh, and Alcor was his best buddy now. Yes, the same Alcor who completely and very _literally_ ripped apart that cult a few years ago. By the way, he says thank you for those cinnamon rolls you sent over last week...

Maybe it would be fine. They were pretty open-minded, right?

"So?" Tyrone wiggled his fingers. "What's it going to be?"

 _This_ open-minded though?

* * *

 

Elisha rooted through her purse, looking for her keys, when she became aware of a commotion in the stairway.

It sounded suspiciously like Thomas. Although he usually didn't curse this much.

The shuffling and suspicious thumps paused. So did the muttered cursing.

"Whew!" That was Eddy's voice. "Never thought we'd get it around the corner there."

"Mmph."

"Heavy, isn't it? Of all days for the elevator to be broken..."

"Could you - lift it - a bit further along?" Thomas sounded breathless. "I'm holding all the weight here!"

"Oops, sorry."

She folded her arms across her chest and waited.

It didn't take long for them to appear. First Eddy, then a large oblong cardboard box, then Thomas, redfaced and sweating.

"Oh hey Elisha!" Eddy greeted her, putting the box down and smiling. "Could you hold open the door for us?"

"Give me a minute to find my keys," she said. She didn't have to ask what was in the box. It was printed on all sides after all. "I take it your talk with Tyrone didn't go well, Thomas?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I... came up with a different solution."

"So I see."

"Right. Of course. Uh... by the way, this is for you?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Most boyfriends bring flowers. Or chocolate."

He had the grace to blush at that. "I know, sorry. But my deal with Tyrone was about access to _my_ fridge. If we say this one is _yours_ , well... there's our loophole. We can put it next to the old one."

She opened the door and held it open for them to pass.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to gift the old one to me?" she said.

"Technically, yes. But, well... I do kind of owe Tyrone this one," Thomas admitted. "I don't want to loophole _out_ of the deal, I just want a place to store my sandwich toppings without worrying about dead cow eyes or tennis balls... Careful there, Eddy - watch your fingers."

She watched them maneuver the fridge through the narrow doorway. "This is the oddest anniversary gift ever."

Thomas nearly dropped his side of the cardboard box. "It's our anniversary already?"

"Dude!" Eddy called out from the other end of the box, as Thomas set his side down on the floor. "You're in trouble now!"

"You mean you forgot?" she said, her tone offended.

"Er - I mean - I thought, uh..."

She let him sputter for a second before she stopped trying to hide her smile. He caught on and groaned. "I can't believe I keep falling for that!"

"I agree," she said, amused. "This is the third time, Thomas."

"You're a bit evil, do you know that?"

From him - with his weird interests and friends and demonic roommate - she'd take that as a compliment.

"I would take offence at that," she said, "but it would feel rude to argue, so soon after accepting that beautiful gift."

"It can make ice cubes," he said.

"Amazing."

"I wouldn't give my girlfriend just any old fridge."

"I'm flattered."

"It has a vegetable drawer too."

"You spoil me so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I've missed a typo here or there, this isn't as polished as I wished it was. It's been lying around my nearly-finished folder for about a month now. Time, why is it always in such short supply?


End file.
